


Kiss Me, Kill Me; It's Just The Same, Isn't It?

by AgentJoanneMills



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: (the last chapter was super unplanned and it is v different from the first two) (sorry), AND I HAD TO WRITE THIS, AND SLEEP EVADED ME, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BECAUSE HOW ELSE COULD I EVEN BEGIN TO ACHIEVE PEACE, But That's Not the Point, F/F, I AM VERY MUCH BITTER AND VERY MUCH TRAUMATIZED, I HAVE INGESTED TOO MUCH COFFEE, Reincarnation, Romance, WITH EXTRA ESPRESSO SHOTS, honestly, is the point, lexark, love and happiness and all that jazz, the answer is there's no way for me to achieve peace, this ship, what even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentJoanneMills/pseuds/AgentJoanneMills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Bond.</p><p>Two Souls.<br/>She’s the girl who fell: she fell from the sky and she fell in love with the one who ruled the earth.<br/>She’s the girl who fought: she fought for survival and for peace, and she fought for the one who fell from the sky.</p><p>Three Words.</p><p>Alternatively: There are always two sides. Two halves. Two souls. But their story is one and the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Bond

**Author's Note:**

> *Recognizable elements belong to their respective owners.  
> **Merely a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement intended.  
> ***A hodgepodge of headcanons and stuff from Tumblr. Do tell me if it's from you, and I'll put it in the credits.  
> ****Update: This universe is expanded in [Tomorrow at the End of the World](http://archiveofourown.org/series/537499)).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s the girl who fell: she fell from the sky and she fell in love with the one who ruled the earth.

 

She’s the girl who fell: she fell from the sky and she fell in love with the one who ruled the earth.

_Green eyes._

_Brown locks._

_A face sculpted by the gods._

She trusted her, but it was repaid with betrayal.

_A knife._

_A bomb._

_A mountain._

And yet she trusted her again. She forgave, and she loved.

Loves.

Will love. Always. Forever.

“ _Not everyone. Not you._ ”

“ _Blood must not have blood._ ”

“ _That’s why I— that’s why you’re you._ ”

 

 

She will never forget. Not a minute, not a second. She will never forget.

 

_In any space, in any time, in any universe that can be._

_High among the stars or deep below the sea._

 

****

 

She remembers clearly.

She remembers the first time she saw her. The first time blue met green. The first time the sky touched the ground.

She remembers the moment when she realized that maybe, just maybe, the sun was the one that revolved around the earth.

 

****

 

_She entered the tent, expecting everything but the girl who sat on the wooden throne._

_And she stared, transfixed. The girl was lean, and her slender fingers played with a knife that Clarke knew could be thrown right through her heart in under a second. There’s a lethality in the girl’s—nay—the_ Commander _’s every movement. Her eyebrows were raised in quiet skepticism, and danger shone within forest-green eyes framed by black war paint. Wild brown curls in intricate braids tumbled down her shoulders, and Clarke resisted the urge to run her_   _own_ _fingers through them. And her lips, well, there was a wicked fullness in them that would have tempted the holiest of holies._

 _And Clarke . . . Clarke was_ far _from holy._

 

****

 

Elyza remembers everything from that past life. (And she knows it’s not the past; not at all.)

She knows what will happen _there_ and _then_ , and she knows she can do nothing to stop it.

But no way in hell will she ever just give up and accept it.

 

Elyza is nothing if not stupidly stubborn.

And damn _anything_ that tries to stop her— yeah, even fucking walkers. _Especially_ fucking walkers.

She’s not about to give up the girl _she loves_ just because the world decided to have _another_ fucking apocalypse.

(So does this count as the first or the second apocalypse? Not that she cares; it’s just all terribly annoying and frustrating and confusing sometimes.)

 

So she trains, and she trains some more, and she trains harder. She learns how to shoot and to maim and to mutilate. She stocks up on guns and knives and axes and grenades and just about every frigging weapon she can get her hands on.

She imagines all the walkers she kills as _flamekeepers_ , and she shoots and she never misses.

 

She will find this world’s Lexa, and she will fucking save her if it’s the last thing she’ll ever do.

 

****

 

Elyza meets them here too.

Them, being those who were ( _are_? _will be_?) important to her.

Her, being Clarke Griffin.

 

****

 

It’s not really her intention to find them. For all she knew, they might have even not existed in this plane, dimension—whatever.

But she’s still pretty happy to find out that they _do_ exist here.

And they have a bit more sense than their other incarnations too. Cool. She can use all the help she can get in _this_ apocalypse.

 

****

 

She found Raven—Lindsi?—first, in a grocery store’s parking lot. The mechanic (well, she’s a full-blown engineer here) was boosting up an old Hummer, a pile of supplies lying by her feet.

 

They almost killed each other, but then, when Elyza’s fist connected with Lindsi’s cheek, recognition sparked between them, and Elyza saw the exact moment when Lindsi realized just who they _were_ ( _are, will be_ ) _._

“You have a mean left hook, princess,” Lindsi said as she was sprawled on the pavement.

And Elyza laughed, and she extended her hand to help her up, but then Lindsi—no—it was Raven who grabbed it and pulled her down so that they’re side by side.

Elyza hit the ground with a thud, and she groaned. It’s not particularly painful, because she knew what real pain was, but it still wasn’t comfortable. “Shit, Raven!”

“Suck it up! You fucking punched me!”

“You threatened me with a knife!”

“It’s not like you’re not gonna shoot me with that Glock you have on your hip!”

 

****

 

Of course they teamed up. Double the brains, double the bad-assery. They could have fucking ruled the world, if there was any proper part of it left to rule.

 

****

 

“Keeping the accent, Elyza?”

“Shut up. Australia thought me how to fuck up fucked-up stuff. This is me paying tribute.”

 

****

 

They soon found Octavia, who went by Marye, half-carried and half dragged by her brother, who went by Robb.

And, well, of course, they all almost killed each other. (What’s new, right?)

But Elyza’s touch made them regain memories of that other life, and they all stuck together.

(Of course they did.)

 

****

 

Monty. Jasper. Lincoln.

They found them too.

 

They’re family. They protect their own.

 

****

 

“So why do you still go by ‘Elyza’?” Jasper asks one night, while they are staying on a pretty cool abandoned mansion with a lot of stored food and clothes and a functioning shower _and_ hot tub.

Elyza just smiles, but there’s no happiness in her eyes. “It makes it easier.”

Jasper—sweet, sweet Jasper, who has decided to let his anger go, since his current form understands _Clarke_ ’s choice better, better than any other form of his will ever do—tilts his head, confused. “How?”

It is Octavia—sitting across Elyza, watching her with Grounder eyes—who answers, “No one can ever say her name the way the Commander did.”

 

Elyza stands up and leaves the room, with only silence in her wake.

 

****

 

When they meet again, Elyza is covered with dirt and grime and walker guts.

 

****

 

Elyza is their de facto leader, and no one really questions it. They have always looked to her for direction. They will always do.

So when she says she’s gonna make a quick run to the convenience store two miles away, they don’t object. They know she can take care of herself. Elyza’s been doing the whole walker-killing thing a whole lot longer than they have, after all, and she can kill at least ten of those diseased lumps of meat at a time.

She puts on her war paint (ignoring Octavia’s snort). She straps her guns and her knives and she shoulders a rifle and puts three grenades and several cases of extra ammo in her bag.

(She’s a badass, but she also knows the importance of caution. She didn’t last this long because she’s an idiot.)

“Sure you can carry all those and whatever you’re picking up _and_ still be able to run?” Raven checks.

“Been doing that for a long time, Rave,” Elyza smirks. “Can handle myself just fine.”

Raven nods. “All right. Just get me some Reese’s.”

“And M&M’s!” Monty adds.

“Kisses, please,” Jasper says, grinning mischievously.

Elyza rolls her eyes. “Fuck off.”

 

****

 

Her eyes are peeled, and her senses are on high alert. The roads are deserted, and there’s only the wind to keep her company.

She feels the fucking monsters before she hears the terrified scream.

 

****

 

Elyza breaks into a fast run. When she turns around the corner, she sees four walkers coming closer to a familiar figure on the ground.

 

Her heart stutters to a stop before beating in a rhythm thrice as fast as what can be considered normal.

Her instincts take over. She raises her guns—Smith & Wesson revolvers, this time—takes her aim, and shoots the motherfuckers in their motherfucking heads.

 

****

 

The bodies all drop in dead heaps. Elyza walks over the girl, who looks up at her with wide eyes of a painfully familiar shade of green. There’s a baseball bat beside her, and Elyza hides a wince at how pathetic a weapon that is.

“Thank you,” the girl whispers, and Elyza savors the voice.

She grins. “Can’t expect me to leave a pretty little thing like you defenseless, yeah? You’re too gorgeous to end up as walker food.”

A pleasant blush creeps its way on the girl’s cheeks. She clears her throat uneasily and makes to stand up.

Elyza extends a hand. The girl looks at it as if weighing her options, but she takes it after a moment, albeit hesitantly.

Elyza expects the same blast of energy that signals rushing memories when their hands make contact.

But there’s none.

Instead, warmth floods through her body, as if her very bloodstream has been filled with candlelight. Every nerve ending is alive, burning her from the inside.

(It’s heady, and it’s addicting.)

The girl stands up, and then they’re face to face.

Elyza’s throat is as dry as the dunefields in the Gibson Desert.

The girl looks at her without any indication that she feels the same, or that she remembers. Her eyes hold the same hesitance as before, but now it is tinged with wariness and suspicion.

She’s smart and wise, Elyza realizes, and she would feel proud if she’s not reeling from what this _complication_ could mean.

_Why don’t you remember me?_

“Uhm,” the girls says.

Elyza realizes that she’s still holding her hand. She releases it, as if she’s burned (and she is), and she tries to regain her chill. “Oh, yeah, sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sweet cheeks?”

She receives an unimpressed glare, and Elyza loves that it’s almost as fierce as _Lexa’_ s.

“What, don’t I get special privileges for saving your life?”

“I already thanked you.”

“Still.”

The girl rolls her eyes, and she crouches down to pick up her bat.

“That’s a pretty lame weapon.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.”

The girl ignores her and heads toward the store.

Elyza shrugs and looks at the walkers. She takes a can containing gasoline from her bag and drenches the bodies with it. Then she fishes her matchbox from her pocket and sets the things on fire.

The store’s door abruptly opens, and the girl’s confused face peeks out. “What are you doing?”

“Uhm, setting them on fire?”

She receives another eye roll. “I can see that. I meant _why_.”

Elyza beams at her. “I like setting them on fire.”

The girl stares at her as if she’s a moron and sighs. Then she disappears again inside.

Elyza follows.

 

****

  
“So what’s your name? Mine’s Elyza. Elyza Lex.” Elyza’s putting all sorts of candies into a basket and following the girl around.

There’s an infuriated huff. “Alicia.” Alicia picks up a bunch of candles. “Alicia Clark.”

She doesn’t notice the way blue eyes widen, and she doesn’t notice Elyza’s breath hitch.

 

****

 

They’ve been in the store for twenty minutes when Alicia says, “I should go.”

Elyza raises an eyebrow. “Go where?”

“My family.”

“You have a family?”

“Of course I have a family.” Alicia stills. “Don’t you?”

Elyza shrugs. “Mum’s dead. Dad too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a long time ago.”

“You’re alone?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Alicia nods. “Well, okay, then. You go back to your people, and I to mine.”

Elyza’s chest tightens, and it’s like she’s drowning.

 

( _“Your people are my people_.”)

 

****

 

There’s a dozen walkers in the path when they get out.

Elyza steps in front of Alicia, saying, “Stay behind me, cutie, and keep your pretty head.”

Alicia makes an affronted sound, but then it’s drowned by the sound of guns being rapidly fired.

 

****

 

“You didn’t have to protect me.”

“I’m not heartless. And I like looking at attractive people. And saving them is like a life mission.”

 

****

 

“Sweetheart—”

“I said don’t call me that.”

“—it’s not safe for you to look for your family alone.”

“They’d be worried about me. They probably already think I’m dead. I have to find them _now_.”

Elyza sighs. There’s a determined streak in Alicia, and she knows it will live on for eons. However, it is really not commendable at the moment. “Look, you said it yourself. They probably think you’re dead. Who’s to say they haven’t gone already? Do you even know their exact location, if ever they haven’t?”

Alicia frowns at her. She’s getting used to it, to be honest.

“Come on, you’re smart. You know it’s not practical.”

“What’s more impractical than listening to a stranger?” Alicia challenges.

“A stranger who saved you twice now,” Elyza points out.

“And for what? What have you to gain?” There’s a calculating glint in those eyes, and Elyza recalls how much she liked seeing that during war meetings.

She shakes her head to clear it of those thoughts; now’s clearly not the time. “Do you really think I’m looking for gain here? You’re defenseless and you have even less supplies than I do. What possible motive could I have in taking you in?”

“I don’t know,” Alicia says. “Which is exactly my point. We don’t know each other.”

Elyza throws her hands in exasperation. “Seriously, do you wanna get fucking _killed_?” she snaps.

There’s enough force in her voice for Alicia to falter.

Elyza continues, “The world’s gone to shit, and nothing makes any fucking sense. The old fucking handbook doesn’t apply anymore, and there’s not a fucking law that could fucking make the world right again. The only rule here is to survive, and it’s kind of hard to do that when you can’t even fucking kill a _single_ fucking walker.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

 _Fuck_.

It’s quiet between them for several moments, both surprised at Elyza’s outburst.

Then, “You’re right. We have to survive.” Blue eyes open to look at green ones. “But maybe life should be about more than just surviving.”

Elyza almost stops breathing.

“And my family helps with that.”

Elyza shakes her head again, running her hand through wild blonde curls. “Lish,” she says, the nickname slipping out unconsciously, “I promise to help you find your family. But come with me for now, replenish your supplies, rest, and then we’d go. _Please_.”

 

****

 

It’s the _please_ that does it, in the end.

 

****

 

“Where are you even staying?”

“In a mansion, two miles from here.”

“And you walked _all_ the way?”

“Well, yeah. I’m still repairing my bike.”

“You ride a bicycle when fighting walkers?”

“What, are you kidding? It’s a Harley, I’ll have you know.”

 

****

 

“So, a mansion,” Alicia gulps when she sees the sprawling estate. “How many of you are there?”

“Including me, there’s seven.” Elyza grins and taps the tattoo on her wrist. “Now there’s eight.”

 

****

 

“Elyza, what took you so fucking long, you little shit?” Raven storms into the foyer the moment she hears the door open and close. When she sees who Elyza is with, however, she comes to an abrupt halt. “Oh.”

“Hi,” says the girl timidly, a hand raised in an awkward wave.

Elyza clears her throat, eyes flashing with warning as she locks gazes with Raven. “Rave, this is Alicia. Alicia, Raven Reyes, my best mate.”

Raven knows when to be cautious. She turns to Alicia. “Alicia . . .?”

“Clark.”

Raven almost stumbles despite standing completely still. “Right.” A thousand questions are on the tip of her tongue, but she bites them off.

She doesn’t want to risk Clarke’s wrath. She never did.

 

****

 

“So the Commander doesn’t remember?” Bell questions.

“She doesn’t,” Elyza answers tonelessly.

“Even though you touched her?”

“Even then.”

She sounds like defeat, and it is not something they want to hear from her, ever.

 

****

 

They soon establish a routine, and the bond—not only between them but also that of their group’s as a whole—grows stronger with each passing day.

 

****

 

Watching Elyza destroying walkers is at the same time intimidating and awe-inspiring.

“You’re . . . something,” Alicia comments after the fact.

Elyza is looking at the fiery remains, and if Alicia weren’t paying attention and listening carefully, she would have missed her saying, “Blood must have blood.”

 

****

 

Elyza offers to teach Alicia how to shoot a gun, but Alicia adamantly refuses.

“Why don’t you wanna learn?”

Alicia averts her gaze. “I . . . I don’t like them.” Her hands are clenched into tight fists.

Elyza watches her carefully, and she understands.

Alicia fears guns.

 

Elyza also understands the reason behind this fear, and it fills her with white-hot rage.

 

(That day, Elyza kills a whole herd of walkers, pouring all her fury and despair into destroying the motherfuckers.)

 

****

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Octavia is sitting beside her one night, a cup of coffee in her hand. They’re on the watch for now.

“Yes, O, I am,” Elyza says, brows furrowed. “Why are you asking me that?”

“She doesn’t remember,” is the even-tempered answer.

“I know,” Elyza smiles, a small one, but Octavia is surprised to see that it’s genuine. “But it’s for the best.”

“How’s that?”

“Lexa never experienced being normal.” Elyza lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “This is as close to peace and normality as she ever was. She’s earned it. She’s . . .  well, she’s even happy now, isn’t she?”

“I suppose,” Octavia allows. “But are you?”

“She’s _breathing_ , Octavia.” Elyza meets her friend’s eyes, unwavering, and Octavia remembers just why this woman was called _Wanheda_ , the Commander of Death. “She’s _breathing_ , and for me, that’s enough.”

 

****

 

It happens on another night. The sky is clear, and the stars are out. Constellations can be mapped out without difficulties, and the air is sweet and cool, filled with hope and everything missing in the rest of the world.

It’s almost a cliché.

 

****

 

Alicia’s just finishing up guard duty with Elyza, and Lincoln and Monty are going to take their place.

 

Alicia goes into the tent they share, Elyza close behind. They settle on the blankets acting as mattresses, and as is their habit, they huddle close to conserve body heat.

(It’s an excuse that’s becoming weaker with each night they spend together. Not that they care.)

 

This time, it is Alicia who wraps her arms around Elyza, her face buried in golden threads. Elyza doesn’t mind. Alicia may not be _Lexa_ , but she _kind_ of is; somewhere in there is Lexa’s actual soul, and no matter what happens, Elyza will protect it.

In whatever universe they may find themselves in, this will always hold true. It doesn’t matter whether or not Lexa remembers.

She’s Lexa’s, in whatever incarnation they may be.

She’s resigned herself to the possibility that this universe might not be for them as well, that maybe Lexa’s memories are not there to be awakened in the first place.

And it’s okay. _Elyza_ can wait.  _Clarke_ can wait.

She’ll wait, no matter how long.

Just as she waits for Alicia’s breathing to even out, usually a sign that she’s asleep.

Elyza tightens her hold on Alicia’s hand resting on her stomach. “Reshop, Heda.”

She closes her eyes, and prepares to go to sleep herself.

And then, as soft as a spring breeze, she hears, “Good night, Ambassador.”

 

****

 

And so they remember.

And so they live.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- No one will ever say "Clarke" the way Lexa did. (bonany)  
> \- Elyza's two best friends Marye Linc and Lindsi Abb. (theimpossibilitiesimagined)  
> \- Alicia saying "Good night, Ambassador," when she remembers. (anon)
> 
> Edit: "Australia's northern frontier" to "dunefields in the Gibson Desert."  
> \- Thanks to JPuzzle for the geography tips. I'm not Australian (obvs), and I hate it. Kidding. But seriously, thanks.


	2. Two Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s the girl who fought: she fought for survival and for peace, and she fought for the one who fell from the sky.

 

She’s the girl who fought: she fought for survival and for peace, and she fought for the one who fell from the sky.

_Blue eyes._

_Golden locks._

_A face as brilliant as the stars._

She let down her walls, but it was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

_A broken boy._

_A poisoned cup._

_A despicable deal._

And yet she lowered them again. She opened up herself, and she gave all her love.

She ruled the earth, but she knelt before the sun.

And her heart was sworn to the girl who fell till the end of days.

Is sworn. Will be sworn.

_“I need your spirit to stay where it is.”_

_“It’s okay. You’re okay.”_

_“I don’t want the next commander. I want you.”_

 

 

She will always fight for her. Against anyone, against anything. She will always fight for her.

 

_As radiant as celestial light, as brilliant and as bright._

_Cast away the pain and the teardrops of the night._

 

****

 

She doesn’t remember.

She doesn’t remember her other lives, her other selves.

She doesn’t remember the blood she spilled or the oaths she swore, and she doesn’t remember how she flew too close to the sun and relished the burn.

 

****

 

_She sat on her throne, expecting everything but the girl who entered her tent._

_And she stared, transfixed. The girl was a vision, and Lexa played with her knife just so she could stop herself from reaching out to see if she was indeed real. There’s an ingrained defiance in the Sky person’s_ _—nay_ _—the_ Sky Princess _’s whole persona. Her expression was one of quiet plea, but a challenge lurked within startlingly blue eyes, daring her with insolence she wouldn’t have allowed were it from anyone else. Her golden tresses looked wild and hardly brushed, and Lexa exerted great effort not to tame them herself, to coax them in some semblance of neatness with her own hands. And her voice, well, its timbre_ _—smoky and low and filled with_ _inadvertent temptation—would have brought the strongest to their knees._

 _And Lexa . . . Lexa was the_ strongest _of all._

 

****

 

Alicia holds no memory of that life (or of any other life at all).

She knows nothing of what will happen, and she knows nothing of what she will undergo.

She knows nothing, and so she feels nothing.

 

****

 

It’s not that she doesn’t care.

She actually cares. _A lot_.

But she learned that caring, more often than not, leads to suffering. And she hates that.

So she just pretends. She pretends she’s untouchable. She has her armour of sarcasm and cynicism. She has quips on the ready for every occasion, and she has her eye rolls and her scoffs.

She doesn’t let anyone get too close because she doesn’t know what that means, not really.

 

****

 

Matt is kind of an exception. _Was_.

He was a safe place. He had his art, and she had him. They had each other. Their future would have ( _could have_ , _should have_ ) been beautiful and perfect. There was a plan, and they intended to follow it.

 

But then . . .

. . . plans don’t last very long in battle, do they?

 

****

 

She cared about him. Truly, she did.

 

So she doesn’t understand why those three words tasted bitter and sounded dishonest and felt wrong when she said them.

 

They sounded like they were meant to be said, yes, but not to _him_.

 _Never_ to him.

And Alicia doesn’t understand _why_.

 

(Why it was like she was betraying someone.)

(Why it was like she was lying to herself.)

(Why it was like a part of her was gone.)

 

****

 

She doesn’t remember, but she does have dreams.

In these dreams, she’s not vulnerable and defenseless. She’s not reliant on others, because she’s the one being relied on. She’s not obliged to follow, because she’s the one being followed. Obeyed. Served.

In these dreams, she is powerful and strong and she has control.

She commands, and they submit.

 

She likes these dreams.

 

****

 

This is her domain.

 

There’s a tall tower, and there’s a throne. There are candles—a lot of candles—all around. So many candles, really—it’s almost a miracle that the place hasn’t burned down.

But it doesn’t smell like smoke or anything like that. Instead, the air is filled with all sorts of sweet fragrances—jasmine, cherries, roses—and they shouldn’t mix together so well, but they do, and they are intoxicating.

And everything is cast in a soft glow, and it feels like home. It’s safe and warm and inviting, and she’s at peace.

 

****

 

Blue eyes—like sapphire, like the summer sky—peer into her own, and she is undressed, unmade, unraveled, like she’s one of the divine.

And yet she knows in her heart of hearts that she is the one who worships at the altar of the sun.

 

****

 

It’s bound to happen, sooner or later.

And in a world such as this one, where even the best can’t catch a fucking break, _sooner_ is more often the case.

 

They’re running out of supplies.

 

****

 

Alicia’s getting more irritable than usual, and she’s getting restless.

She’s been confined in a _thing_ that is only _a touch_ more stable than her brother’s mental state, and there’s been nothing to see but the same group of human beings and the same endless sea.

Even she, with her imagination and her intellect, cannot last long within these restraints—her world has shrunken down to this tiny point in space because of necessity.

And she knows it’s for her own good. The adults are doing everything within their power to keep them alive, and the best way to do that, right now, is to stick them all in this damned floating contraption that she absolutely fucking _loathes_.

She knows it’s for their lives, but she also knows without a doubt that she _should_ be out there—free, moving, and _on the ground_.

But she’s here, under completely opposite conditions, and it makes her skin crawl, because it’s like she’s going against her very _nature_. And she doesn’t understand the feeling, not really, but it’s there, and she knows she has to do anything to rectify this situation.

So when Madison says that they are going ashore to stock up on needed items, she jumps at the chance and insists that she come with them.

“Alicia, please,” her mom reasons with her, “don’t make this a big deal.”

“You’re the one making this a big deal. I just want to go.”

“We’re not gonna take long.” Madison hands Nick a bunch of big hideously colored eco-bags in which to put whatever the hell they’re going to pick up.

“Then why debate against my coming with?” There’s derision and spite thick in her voice. “My presence is that big of a burden, is that it?”

Madison sighs. “Just list down what supplies you think you need, and as long as they’re reasonable, we’re going to get them for you, okay?” There’s clear dismissal in her tone that makes Alicia bristle, and indignation rises to the surface. “No need to—”

“I am more than capable of getting my own supplies!” Alicia snaps. “I don’t need you to treat me like a helpless kid because I’m not, and after everything I’ve seen and gone through, I think I should warrant some of your respect.” She’s fuming, her fists clenched tightly, and her eyes glint with something raw and feral. “I know you think you’re protecting me, but _I_ think it’s time you see that I don’t need you to—not like this, not like I’m going to break any minute, not like caging me on the seas is going to save me, because it’s not.”

And with the way she’s holding herself—head tilted high, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed into furious slits, her whole countenance screaming that she is the one in charge and the one who calls the shots—they really can’t find it in themselves to disagree with her anymore.

At that very moment, they see someone they have known she’s capable of _being_ but haven’t seen on full display.

At that very moment, they know the argument is not an argument at all—Alicia always gets what she wants, and now is not going to be the time that will stop holding true.

 

****

 

Her mother and Travis will go one way, and she and her brother will go another. Chris will be waiting by the docks with Ofelia, and Daniel will be on the boat with Strand.

It’s simple enough.

But, well, it turns out _simple_ is not an actual thing.

 

****

 

“Do you think multiverses are real?” her brother blurts out, from nowhere, kicking a stone as they walk.

Alicia, who is swinging a baseball bat—an effort at arming herself—in one hand, looks at him sideways; she does not say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“Like, that some other _you_ is living another life that might be a bit different from _this_ life you’re living here and now?”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Nick shakes his head adamantly. “The very best physicists have like, evidence that other universes exist.”

She gives him an amused but skeptical look.

Nick pretends to look affronted. “Yeah, I know I’ve been kicked out of community college, but still, Ali, I can like, _read_.”

“And you’re reading what, science magazines?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Point taken.” Nick shrugs. “But come on, you gotta admit—it’s pretty cool to think about.”

“Maybe,” Alicia allows. “Still seems far-fetched, though.”

“Does it bother you?” he asks. “The possibility that maybe all that we see is not all that there is? That somewhere out there, there’s another _you_ , leading a different life, having a different set of experiences?”

Alicia frowns, mulling the question over. She thinks the possibility is actually an impossibility. Her head tells her that no, it can’t be true. There’s only one of her, and she’s living in a world riddled with reanimated cannibalistic corpses.

But . . . there’s a tug in her subconscious, a whisper deep inside. It’s weak, but it’s there, and try as she might, she cannot squash it, and she gives up on attempting to ignore it.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she answers at last. “It just . . . unsettles me.”

Nick huffs a laugh. “That’s the same thing, Ali.”

“No, I don’t mean like, I am worried or something. It’s more like, I’m . . .” she searches for a word that will convey what she means, but what she comes up with surprises even herself, “. . . envious.”

“ _Envious_? You?” Nick is unable to grasp the concept. “Whatever for?”

“Well, if there’s another me out there, she sure as hell is not battling walkers. So there’s that.”

“What if you’re like a revolutionary leader of peace? Or a superhero? Or maybe you’re an actress and this whole thing”—he spreads out his arms in a comically enthusiastic gesture—“is just your show? That would be so awesome, right? We’re like, costars, and we have fans, and maybe you have a cat or something. I’ve always wanted a cat. And then maybe your really dedicated fanbase will support you in any project you’ll ever have. Maybe even express outrage when one of your characters gets killed, and they’ll be extremely vocal about it, and they’ll maybe even spark an international debate.”

“That’s pretty specific, Nick.”

“Uh-huh. And then, maybe in all these universes, there’s one person meant for you, you know? Like soul mates, and you’re bound together, forever, in every life you live.” Nick exhales, and he’s looking at the distance, as if he’s seeing what he’s describing with his own two eyes.

Alicia sighs, but an exasperated smile tugs at her lips. “What the fuck have you been sniffing, huh? Do we have weed on stock that I don’t know about?”

“I just think it’s nice, you know, to have hope that this isn’t all that we have,” he says, with a seriousness she has rarely witnessed. “It’s better to believe that we’re in, like, a giant cosmic bubble in hyperspace with many different versions of ourselves instead of alone in a fucked-up Earth with only _one_ life.”

 

That’s a sobering thought.

Sometimes, she really thinks Nick is the smart one between the two of them.

 

****

 

Fucking walkers.

 

Their task is going well, and Nick’s bags are full of useful things like food and toilet paper.

Alicia’s backpack is filled with protein bars and apples. There are several scented candles—she hardly ever sees winter candy apple ones in stores these days, so she takes this opportunity to indulge herself.

But then they turn around a street, and a horde of those hideous creatures is waiting for them.

“Run!” Nick says, and wow, no shit, Sherlock. Alicia resists the urge to yell that of course she’s going to run—she wants to live, she’s too smart for this—and she instead directs her focus to actually running.

And, well, after several days (Weeks? Months? What the fuck is the difference?) adrift in the waters with nothing stable beneath her feet, she isn’t surprised that she runs at a slightly slower pace.

 _Slightly,_ however, is the thin line that separates _alive_ from ( _un_ ) _dead_.

She’s out of practice, and she hasn’t done cardio, because hello, the apocalypse is not really the time to think about getting proper exercise—breathing itself has become an entitlement instead of a basic human right (okay, she sounds like Chris now, what the hell).

Anyway. Yeah. She supposes that is a contributing factor as to why _Nick_ —her drug-addicted and stupidly lame brother who is juggling several heavy supply bags—has managed to outrun her, and why she’s now gasping for breath but still very much within reach of the fucking walkers.

What a fan-fucking-tastic day.

 

****

 

She has no idea how long she’s been running, and she dares not look back. She figures the groaning is enough of a clue that she’s still being pursued.

She happens upon a deserted lot, and there’s a convenience store with flickering lights. It’s enough cover, at least.

 

****

 

It’s kind of a dumb move, she has to admit.

And even dumber is the fact that she’s so fucking out of it that she slips and trips.

So now, yeah, she’s looking at the deteriorated faces of her doom.

 

She’s too smart for this world, but it seems she’s also foolish enough to die like this—like a poorly written cliché, a death solely for shock value, with no sensible explanation as to why it has to happen, except, well, _stupid_ decisions.

 

****

 

It’s not acceptable that she ends like this, a pathetic loser. She can’t even use the fucking baseball bat lying beside her. But there are four of those creatures, and though she told her mom she’s not a kid anymore, she kind of wants to take that back right this second.

She’s a kid, and she’s scared, and she hates it.

She thinks she screams, but she can’t be too sure. It’s another stupid decision, because noises attract more of them, and wow, is she even really _thinking_ at this point?

No one will know, probably, because she’s going to die.

 

****

 

Except she doesn’t.

Gunshots ring through the air, and she hasn’t been gladder to hear those all her life.

And even better is the sound of bodies dropping on the ground.

A shadow falls over her, and she looks up to meet the eyes of her saviour.

And, wow, she does not expect what— _who_ —she sees at all.

 

****

 

A blond girl probably a couple of years older than her stands with a gun in each hand, the barrels still smoking. She turns on the safety and smoothly slides them into her hip holster, and Alicia sees that those are not her only weapons. Knives are strapped to her thighs and her arms, and a rifle is slung over her shoulder.

Alicia looks at her in wonder, and not just because this girl is obviously freaking prepared for a fight (more like several fights).

Her eyes are an intense, electrifying blue—as brilliant as sapphires, really— and their color is emphasized by the black war paint dripping on her face. Alicia, under normal circumstances, would think it made her look like a raccoon, but these are _not_ normal circumstances, and she has to admit that the girl looks badass.

And she’s looking at Alicia like she holds the answers to every question she’s ever asked, and it . . . it’s _not_ an unpleasant feeling, to say the least.

The girl glances at the baseball bat beside her, and something like distaste crosses her expression, probably because it’s honestly not that much of a weapon.

Right. Huh. Weapons. Saved.

This girl full of weapons has just saved her, and Alicia probably should say something.

“Thank you,” Alicia manages, and she’s proud of the way her voice doesn’t waver.

The girl inhales sharply, but she quickly covers it up with a grin as bright as sunshine.

(When did Alicia even begin thinking in metaphors and similes? It’s annoying.)

“Can’t expect me to leave a pretty little thing like you defenseless, yeah? You’re too gorgeous to end up as walker food.” Her accent is not American; she sounds Australian.

And she sounds . . . what—? Is she . . . _flirting_?

What the hell?

Alicia feels blood rush to her cheeks, and, if the way the girl’s grin widens is any indication, then she most definitely is blushing.

She clears her throat, because this is _so_ not happening. She starts to sit up.

The girl extends a hand, and Alicia meets her gaze. Something . . . _something_ shines behind those blue orbs, and it is something that Alicia wants to discover.

Wait. What?

Trying her best to clear her thoughts, Alicia averts her gaze and looks at the girl’s hand instead. She knows she’s probably being immature, but hey, these days, even people who save you can turn around and still kill you.

But then, if this girl wanted her dead, surely she wouldn’t have wasted her ammo and risked the noise it made.

With that in mind, Alicia finally takes the girl’s hand, accepting the offer to help her up.

The girl’s hand is callused, as if it’s been on many battles (and Alicia thinks that might be the case, given the expertise the girl clearly has in handling weapons). Despite that, however, their fingers fit together perfectly, as if her hand was specially made for holding Alicia’s.

It’s as if every moment Alicia has experienced and every decision—good or bad—she has ever made has been to lead her to this very moment.

It’s . . . disconcerting.

Who is this girl?

( _Why do I feel like I know you?_ )

Why does she feel safe?

( _Why do I feel like you’ll protect me?_ )

She stands before the girl now, and there’s . . . disappointment in her eyes. But it’s blinked away so quickly that Alicia believes it’s just a trick of light.

“Uhm.”

Blue eyes widen when the girl realizes that she’s still holding Alicia’s hand, and she hastily releases it. “Oh, yeah, sorry, sweetheart.”

There’s the flirtatious tone again, and it annoys Alicia.

 She’s _not_ to be flirted with, no matter how hot the girl is.

 _Wait_. That is not the point.

Yeah, she received admiration from both boys and girls before, but Alicia’s fucking straight.

“Don’t call me that,” Alicia says snippily.

“Sweet cheeks?”

She glares at the girl.

“What, don’t I get special privileges for saving your life?”

Okay, yeah, maybe Alicia’s being a brat, but “I already thanked you.”

“Still.”

Alicia rolls her eyes, and she crouches down to pick up her bat.

“That’s a pretty lame weapon,” the girl comments, and she sounds almost offended to even call it one.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she retorts.

“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.”

Alicia ignores that and goes into the store. She has her bag still, but if she’s going to be alone for a while, she needs more food and other supplies.

She’s getting some cereal and milk, putting them in a basket she got from the corner, when she hears a faint crackle. It . . . sounds like fire.

Setting the basket down for a bit, she heads for the door and chances a peek outside. The blonde is indeed standing before a fire that licks the body of the walkers in furious waves. “What are you doing?”

The girl raises an eyebrow at her. “Uhm, setting them on fire?”

Alicia rolls her eyes again. What an asshole. “I can see that. I meant _why_.”

“I like setting them on fire,” the blonde answers, and she seems so pleased with herself.

Alicia cannot believe she owes her life to a moron like this one.

What a fucking life.

Resigning herself to this twist of fate, she heads back inside.

 

****

 

She’s mad. She’s more than mad. She’s infuriated and enraged, because she knows Elyza is right.

She cannot look for her family right now. It’s unsafe, and it’s impractical, and it would most likely get her killed.

She knows this. And yet that doesn’t stop her from lashing out.

 

****

 

Despite the outburst, Elyza still insists on keeping Alicia with her, at least for now.

 

And if she’s being honest with herself, Alicia would say that she wants to keep Elyza with her, too.

 

****

 

She thought she’s going to feel lost and isolated. After all, these people don’t know her, and she doesn’t know them, and surely, strangers in this world, especially during the apocalypse, are to be treated with caution.

 

That’s not what happened, though.

 

****

 

They welcome her like she’s family, like her being there with them makes sense. Like it’s inevitable, and it’s supposed to happen. Like they’ve been waiting for her, and now that she’s here, then everything’s going to be okay.

 

And Alicia does not understand why, but she feels the same way.

 

****

 

Lincoln, who looks at her like she has his life on her hands.

Raven, who looks at her as if she took something but was forgiven.

Octavia, who looks at her with both awe and respect.

Bellamy, who looks at her with guilt and apology.

Monty and Jasper, who look at her with admiration and compassion.

They confound Alicia to no end.

 

And then there’s Elyza—a dichotomy Alicia can’t solve. She’s snarky one moment and serious the next; mischievous and then solemn; flirtatious and then openly sweet.

But always, _always_ , Elyza is genuine.

 

****

 

Elyza is resolute that Alicia learns to wield some kind of weapon.

“The world, obviously, is a pretty crazy place right now, and I would feel infinitely better if you would just please learn to fend for yourself using actual weapons.”

“I told you I don’t like guns—”

“And I’m not talking about guns,” Elyza interrupts. When Alicia raises an eyebrow in question, she just smiles. “Come on, follow me.”

 

****

 

Elyza leads her to a sort of library, and Alicia scoffs. “Are you going to drop a line on how knowledge is power? Because I assure you, I don’t need to be reminded of that.”

Elyza just gives her a sort of annoyed look, but she’s smirking. “You’ll see, Princess.” She reaches out to a big, heavy-looking tome and tilts it down, and the whole shelf moves, revealing a secret passageway.

Oh.

 

****

 

There’s a wide array of weapons laid out in front of them. It’s not an exaggeration.

There are swords of different types, axes, machetes. Knives, spears, lances. And other sorts of pointy things that Alicia can’t even name.

“What the fuck?” she says, because seriously, what the fuck?

“The owner of this house was apparently a collector,” Elyza tells her, sliding a finger over an obsidian blade. “And his haul is of the best kind, too. These are the finest ones I’ve seen yet that aren’t made by the best smiths of the medieval age.”

That gets Alicia’s attention. “You know medieval weapons?”

Elyza almost drops a ninja star. “Uh, I studied them for a bit. A long time ago.”

She’s hiding something, Alicia knows. But she’s not one to pry. “If you say so.”

Elyza just nods.

 

****

 

“How did you even discover this place?”

“I was supposed to read the book,” Elyza mimes tilting something with her hand, which Alicia assumes is supposed to indicate the book they used to get here, “but then, voila, I hit the jackpot.”

Alicia narrows her eyes, thinking. “The book— _The Art of War_. You read Sun Tzu?”

“That one’s Antoine-Henri Jomini’s, actually. Though I did read Sun Tzu’s.”

“Heavy reading.” She sounds surprised, and Alicia supposes she’s being rude.

But Elyza doesn’t take offense. She simply laughs and winks at her. “What can I say? I’m the whole package, sweetie.”

 

Alicia is proud of the self-control she exerted to _not_ impale her with a spear.

 

****

 

It is Lincoln who trains her. He’s patient, and he knows what he’s doing. Octavia joins them, sometimes.

They show her the proper stances, but they also tell her that she can put her own spin in it.

“It’s like dancing,” Lincoln says. “There are proper forms you can follow, but you also have your own style. When you incorporate that style, well, you create your own form.” He scratches his chin, sheepish. “I’m probably not making any sense, but, do you understand?”

 

Alicia is surprised that she does.

 

****

 

They head back on the road in two pickup trucks.

It’s hot, and sweaty, and uncomfortable, but Alicia doesn’t mind.

 

****

 

She’s leaning against a tree, eyes on the stars. She’s always loved looking at the stars; it’s why when she was young, she thought she was gonna be an astronomer, or maybe even an astronaut, and she’ll get to float with them in the skies.

Elyza’s voice takes her out of her reverie. “Do you want a tattoo?”

“Huh?”

“It’s just . . . you’re always tracing that.” Elyza juts her chin to Alicia’s forearm. “Did you use to have a mark on there or something?”

Alicia looks down, and her right hand is indeed lying on the space Matt’s doodle used to occupy.  “Oh. Uh,” she swallows. She doesn’t know why she feels embarrassed, all of a sudden. As if she somehow committed a treachery of the highest degree. “It’s . . . uh.” She can’t even meet Elyza’s stare, but she can feel blue eyes burning on the side of her face. “My ex-boyfriend drew something here, before.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“I see.” Alicia closes her eyes, because those two words seem to sear themselves into her chest, like a stamp of her culpability. It’s like she’s being sentenced for a crime she doesn’t even know she committed, and yet she feels remorse for it. “Do you have a photo of it or something?”

At that Alicia meets Elyza’s gaze, and she sees it’s filled with understanding.

It almost breaks her. “What?”

The blonde shrugs. “With the way you’re always on your phone, I’m pretty sure you snapped a picture of it. He’s an artist?”

“Yeah.”

“So show me.”

Alicia nods. She gets her phone from her jacket’s pocket; it’s fully charged from the power bank she found in their last hideout. She scrolls through the gallery, and hands it to Elyza.

Elyza looks at it in contemplation, hums, and hands it back to her. Then she rummages through her knapsack, before raising a Sharpie triumphantly. “Ah-ha.” She turns to her then, and her concern is palpable. “May I?”

Alicia wordlessly holds out her arm, and Elyza takes it with a softness that almost makes her weep.

 

She flawlessly imitates Matt’s drawing, and it’s perfect, and it’s right.

But it’s also wrong, and it makes Alicia feel sickened to the pit of her stomach.

 

Because though Alicia wants Elyza to mark her, she also knows that what she really wants is for it to be _Elyza_ ’s own design.

 

****

 

It’s not her intention to eavesdrop.

 

****

 

Alicia’s of the impression that should she ask something, they’ll more or less tell her the truth, or will tell her straightforwardly that they cannot say. They’re very open with that, and they’re honest, and they haven’t deliberately done anything to offend her.

Alicia also knows that there are secrets kept and words unspoken. She’s not so naïve as to believe there aren’t.

She sees it in the way Elyza always looks so sad. But then when she catches her staring, she’ll plaster that annoying smirk and she’ll make some crude joke and she’ll laugh.

But Alicia notices the cracks.

There’s a shroud of heartbreak that constantly follows Elyza around, despite all the ridiculous things she does to pretend otherwise.

 

It’s like Elyza’s searching for something, but like she’s also content with what she has.

It’s like she's content with what she has, but like she knows there’s something more.

It’s like she knows there’s something more, but like she won’t force herself on it.

 

****

 

It’s midmorning, and Alicia sneaks downstairs. It’s a new house—well, newly broken into—and they’re figuring out their routine for the week.

She heads down to look for milk. Then she figures she’s gonna go back to sleep, because she remembers Elyza saying something about a midnight shift or some other crap.

(It’s totally not because the bed also contains one sleeping blonde against whom she can snuggle some more. Nope.)

But she hears the others talking in the kitchen in hushed tones.

“She already lost the Commander, and Cl— _Elyza_ can’t go through that again,” Lincoln’s voice is soft with sympathy and kindness. “Not after everything.”

“So we just, what? Do nothing?” Octavia sounds like the total reverse of her boyfriend.

“It’s not like we can do anything, Octavia,” Raven sighs. “It’s Elyza’s choice.”

“It’s not just hers. It’s L—” Octavia grunts, as if she’s bitten her lip. “It’s the Commander’s, too.”

“And she’s not here.” Lincoln is soothing. “You heard _Wanheda_. The Commander might not even really be _in_ there, the way she is.”

“I refuse to accept that.”

“Why are you so stubborn about this?” Raven asks. “It’s not like you were close to her.”

“She gave her life for our peace,” Octavia says. “Now is the time that she gets hers.”

“Don’t you think she already does? I mean, come on. It’s the apocalypse, but at least she doesn’t have the world on her shoulders.”

There’s shifting of feet, and Alicia deduces that Octavia is leaning on the counter. She can almost imagine the fire in her eyes. “Do you really think she’ll know true peace without _her_?”

 

****

 

Elyza wakes up late that afternoon. She announces she wants some nuggets, and that she’s going to get her gear and head out.

Alicia thinks she’s not serious, at first.

She’s just stepping through the door when Alicia sees her. “Where the fuck are you going alone?”

Elyza smirks at her. “I said I’m gonna go to the supermarket, didn’t I? I want nuggets. I’m pretty sure there’s still something that hasn’t expired.”

“Are you kidding me?” Alicia frowns. “You’re _really_ going to a dangerous place because you’re craving _nuggets_?”

“Oh come on, Lish,” Elyza says, “it’s gonna be okay. It’s just a quick run, then my fine arse’s gonna be back here. You won’t even get a chance to miss this fine mug.”

Alicia rolls her eyes, in that special way reserved for Elyza’s most infuriating antics. “At least bring me. You need backup.”

“I can handle it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Despite all the constant mischief in her tone, Elyza always looks at her with something heavy and old and _eternal_ , and it always confuses Alicia, but it exhilarates her too. “I won’t just die and leave you alone, Princess. I promise I’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

“Promises are made to be broken,” Alicia says.

Something flashes in Elyza’s blue eyes—resolve mixed with a fierceness that takes Alicia’s breath away. “Not the ones I make you,” she tells her, and before Alicia can say something more to convince her to stay—to not fucking _leave_ her—she’s gone.

 

****

 

Elyza does come back, and she has with her a bunch of sausages and nuggets and even _bacon_.

“Oh my god,” Jasper says, “I love you so much.”

“I do have that effect on people,” Elyza says, but her eyes are fixed on green ones across the room.

 

****

 

Elyza approaches her on the balcony after dinner.

“Is this ‘I told you so’?” Alicia asks.

There’s something bittersweet in Elyza’s smile, then. “No,” she answers. “This is thank you.”

Alicia nods and looks at Elyza’s hand. She noticed it earlier, right after she arrived, but she didn’t say anything because Elyza was pretending it didn’t matter.

Maybe it didn’t, not to her, but to Alicia, it _does_.

She reaches out and carefully holds the hand, messily wrapped with bandages. “Let me change that for you.”

Elyza lets her.

 

****

 

When she takes off the bandage, she sees that it’s tinged with . . . black.

Alicia’s eyes search out Elyza’s, and she’s bewildered and alarmed. “What the—”

Elyza sighs, resigned. “Trust me,” she speaks softly, so tender and gentle that it’s almost brutal. “Please.”

 

****

 

Elyza shows her the scars—bite marks on her right shoulder and on her left leg. They’re fading, but they’re still discernible.

“I locked myself up, after,” Elyza says. “I don’t want to ever be like those motherfuckers. But I was in the bunker for more than a week, and I didn’t even get a fever.”

Without being aware of it, Alicia traces a finger over the shoulder scar.

Elyza’s breath catches. Alicia doesn’t say anything but continues her motions, so Elyza picks up her story. “After that, I figured I was, uh, immune or something. So I got out and fought like hell, and when I got injured, I discovered I got black blood, too.”

Alicia’s finger stops moving, but it still rests on Elyza’s skin. “Is that why you’re so unafraid of encountering walkers?”

“Kind of. A bit.” Elyza’s voice is lower than Alicia’s ever heard it. “For the most part, I just really have a lot of issues, and bashing skulls in kinda helps with that.”

They’re faces are close, and the air is thick with things unsaid.

 

They don’t talk about that.

 

****

 

They’re having a barbecue in another balcony, in another city. They’re steadily moving north, and Alicia feels the hope in her chest growing stronger.

Elyza sits beside Octavia, who is gesticulating so wildly she almost hits her in the face. The blonde catches the small brunette’s hand, and she looks taken aback. “Wow, your hands are pretty fucking cold, O.”

Octavia swats her cheek with said hand, and burrows closer to Lincoln, who rubs tender circles on her back.

“You’re one to talk, Elyza,” Raven says, across the fire. “Yours are like fucking ice, you know.”

Elyza frowns in confusion. “When did you even hold my hand? I feel violated.”

(Alicia tenses because she feels the same way—when _did_ Raven do that?)

“Shut up, fucker. It’s when you took my last Reese’s and I had to pry it away from your evil grasp.”

(And Alicia relaxes.)

“Ah. I thought you copped a feel when I was sleeping or something.”

“What, with your _hand_? I do have standards, you know.”

Elyza leans back, raising her hands, her fingers splayed. “I’d have you know that these hands are miracle workers, Reyes. They’re like, a gift to humanity.”

Alicia almost chokes on her lemonade.

Elyza looks at her with that sly smirk. “Care to try, Princess?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

That earns her a low chuckle. “Eh, you’ll come around. The offer’s still there.”

“I’d rather it’s not.”

Elyza shrugs, as if what Alicia said doesn’t hold water.

(It doesn’t.)

“But seriously, O, what’s up with that?” Elyza looks at her brother. “Hey, Bell, are yours that cold?”

Bellamy grabs Monty’s face. “Are they?”

Monty shakes him off with a groan. “Ugh, no. They’re clammy.”

“So it’s not a genetic thing?”

“What is up with you and cold hands, Elyza? Are you jealous ’cause I have Lincoln to warm mine up and you’re cold all by yourself?”

“You should know by now that being by myself doesn’t stop me from getting warm, O,” Elyza quips. “On the contrary, I’d say that is the best circumstance for me to get rid of the cold.”

“Okay, eew.”

“But honestly,” Raven says, clasping her hands in front of her to emphasize her point, “O and Linc have like, the ideal hand-holding temperature.”

Elyza barks out a laugh at that, and she shakes her head in amusement. “Wow, what a wonderful relationship goal. Thermodynamic equilibrium, huh?”

Even Alicia cracks a smile, but it is directed at Elyza. “You’re actually secretly grade conscious, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You know your physics.”

Comprehension dawns on those blue eyes. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, I _did_ go to college, baby doll.”

That’s news to Alicia. Not that she thinks Elyza is an actual slipshod idiot; it’s just, she acts so nonchalantly about serious matters that Alicia kind of assumed she’d always been like that, even before the end of the world as they know it.

Jasper says, “Right! Berkeley, was it?”

Alicia’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Elyza pops out the _p_ sound, and she’s the picture of disinterest, but Alicia can see that she has her guard up. “Molecular and cell biology. Though I took units in biophysics because that’s cool too.”

Now Alicia’s really impressed. “I didn’t know that.”

“Am I becoming more desirable to you, sweetie?”

Alicia raises an eyebrow. “The use of the word _more_ implies that I find you desirable to begin with.”

“And I don’t see you denying it.”

“You’re an ass.”

Elyza winks at her—that stupid wink again with that stupid smirk and that stupidly sexy voice. “Play your cards right and you’ll see a real ass.”

 

****

 

They’re on guard duty tonight. They’re out in the fields, scouted beforehand to ensure their safety.

The skies are clear, and Alicia can see Polaris twinkling bright. She wonders if her brother is looking at it too.

“Hey,” Alicia says when she feels Elyza settling beside her.

“Hey.”

They sit in comfortable silence, and Alicia’s eyes are still fixed on the sky, and she knows Elyza’s eyes are fixed on her.

She doesn’t know what makes her do it, but Alicia murmurs in the quiet, “Who’s the Commander?”

She hears Elyza’s sharp intake of air. “Where did you hear about that?” There’s a tremble in her voice, minute though it is.

“The others were talking about her.” Alicia’s words are loud in the stillness of the night.

“Oh.”

“She’s . . .” Alicia wonders why she feels like her heart is being shattered. “She’s the one you lost?”

(And she doesn’t know if she wants the answer at all.)

And the next words are the ones that will both break and make her.

“She’s the one I love.”

 

****

 

It’s like a lightning bolt came down from the heavens and struck her down.

But instead of turning her to ash, it gave her life.

 

****

 

Everything comes crashing down, and she meets them headfirst as she rises up.

And it’s glorious and freeing and she’s . . . complete.

 

The final puzzle piece clicks into place.

The final riddle is answered.

 

****

 

She needs the time Elyza— _Clarke_ ’s silence affords her . . .

 

. . . for now she isn’t just Alicia. She’s not only a teenager and a daughter and a sister.

 

She’s Leksa kom Trikru. She’s the Commander of the Thirteen Clans. She’s the Commander of the Blood. The Commander of Peace.

 

She’s the girl unafraid of death, because its commander rides by her side.

She’s the girl who fought, and her fight is not over.

 

****

 

She feels Elyza’s breathing slow down, and she tries her best to match it. She knows _Clarke_ usually waits until she’s asleep before sleeping herself.

And then _Elyza_ tightens her hold on her hand, and _Clarke_ resonates within the accented voice. “Reshop, Heda.”

And Lexa smiles. She breathes against those golden curls she loves, “Good night, Ambassador.”

 

****

 

And so they are.

And so they love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Another chapter, as promised (well, I didn’t really promise, but still).  
> The day I wrote this, I woke up with the most intense case of panic attack I have ever experienced yet. It was like someone’s squeezing my heart from the inside but at the same time hollowing out my chest and I forgot how to breathe and I was so scared and I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. 
> 
> I couldn’t, not because there were no tears—because believe me, I have lots of those—but because my mother would surely hear it and I couldn’t have that. She would have asked questions, ones I couldn’t answer, because I am living so far in the closet I’m pretty sure light doesn’t actually exist in the outside world. Lol.
> 
> So if there's unnecessary angst here, sorry. It's sort of a release. I hope you'll like it, though.
> 
> On another note:  
> \- Elyza’s black blood (anon)  
> \- Elyza being bitten by walkers and living (lexark)  
> \- Elyza as a Berkeley apprentice (alien-luk)
> 
> Anyway. Ste yuj, loves!


	3. Three Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re leaders of their people: the people of the sky and the people of the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANGER: Cheesy pickup lines. You have been warned. (And a long-ass note at the end.)

 

They’re leaders of their people: the people of the sky and the people of the ground.

_Sky Princess._

_Commander of the Coalition._

_Heda and Wanheda._

They were both hardened by battles of which they wanted no part.

_Against the mountain._

_Against tradition._

_Against ourselves._

They were both shoved into positions for which they didn’t wish, made to play out roles that went against what they want, forced to make decisions that chipped away at them, making them weaker inside, with no one to alleviate their internal suffering, no one to understand just how harsh and unforgiving their personal hells are—maelstrom raging behind the façade of calm strength and iron will.

 

No one but each other.

Together, side by side—the Commander of the Blood and the Commander of Death who rides beside her—they finally learned what home feels like.

 

****

 

They will always find each other.

Whenever, wherever, in whichever universe.

They will always find each other.

 

****

 

_With you, I will always be._

_With me, you will always be._

_We count our lifetimes like we count the stars._

_We love each other as fiercely as we fight our wars._

_We build our solace in a restless world._

_When we’re together we are never cold._

_Words unspoken drown unshed tears._

_Whispers so tender bring down walls of fears._

_We are death, we are life._

_We are the shadows, we are light._

_We—_

_—you and I—_

_—are eternity._

 

****

 

“Reshop, Heda.”

“Good night, Ambassador.”

 

****

 

Elyza’s eyes fly wide open, and she rushes up from her position on the blankets, and she’s scrambling backward, and then she’s facing Alicia.

No.

 _Lexa_.

It is Lexa who is sitting with her posture perfect ( _like the rest of her_ ), back ramrod straight and hands daintily folded on her lap.

It is Lexa who is looking at her now—Lexa’s hard edges softened with her guard down, Lexa’s quietly commanding aura.

And though it is tempered by the charmingly cavalier attitude Alicia possesses—for she can afford to possess it, in this life free of her responsibilities to her people because there is no _her_ people in the first place—it is Lexa who is giving her that relentless stare, the one that has always grounded Clarke, has always been a source of stability in a chaotic world, and it is that same stare that now strips away the despair that has been Elyza’s devoted companion since she regained Clarke’s memories.

Elyza’s breathing is ragged in the quiet, and she feels like her heart is stuck somewhere in her throat, and she wants to speak, to say something, to _do_ something, but she can’t. And so she just looks into those green, green eyes—eyes that have seen her at her worst but never held judgment, never blamed her for anything; eyes that have always implored to the best part of herself, steadily guiding her to be better, to push her limits; eyes that have always regarded her with a steady intensity, offering everything in their depths without ever asking for anything in return.

She wants to bridge the gap, wants to cross the few feet separating her from Lexa ( _Lexa, Lexa, Lexa,_ her brain repeats, over and over, over and over, and there’s the fear that should it stop, this might prove just a dream, and Lexa would retreat back into the recesses of Alicia’s mind, and then Alicia would forget, and _no, no, no, I can’t let you go, not again, never again_ ), wants to see if she’s indeed real. She needs to _feel_ if she’s indeed real.

But she remains frozen in place, a still statue, every muscle in her body taut and waiting for a command to move, but they do not budge, and it’s like she’s going to explode into a million pieces and scatter in the breeze.

And Lexa seems to understand—and she always has been the one best able to understand her, the only one able to understand her _at all_.

It is Lexa who moves so that she’s kneeling opposite her, and Lexa’s gaze is warm, and it is as if she’s looking at the fulfillment of her every wish, hope, dream. And then her lips—those lips that have branded her with their kisses and have murmured sweet nothings on her skin—turn up into a familiar half smile, the one that always steals the breath right out of her and makes her want to claim that smile as her air instead.

And it is Lexa who at last speaks against the yawning chasm of silence between them, and it is Lexa who says, “ _Clarke_.”

And that one word— _her name_ —always spoken like a prayer, even when they’re arguing over lives lost and risks taken, even when they’re shouting at the top of their lungs to make the other see reason, to convince the other of their own side, even when they’re trapped in their roles as leaders of their people—that one word is enough for the first sob to break free.

And it is a sound filled with everything she has been tamping down—all her heartbreak, all her grief, all her worry—everything she has been trying to keep to herself because she doesn’t want to trouble anyone else, everything she has been bearing alone _so that_ _they don’t have to_.

And the next moment, she’s engulfed in Lexa’s embrace, and she feels _safe_. _Home_.

She’s trembling, and Lexa tightens her hold, anchoring her.

“I’m here now.” Lexa takes a deep breath, and her voice is a low murmur that washes over Elyza in gentle waves. “It’s all right. I’m here, Clarke.”

And then, locked right there in her love’s arms, _Clarke_ finally lets go, and she cries.

 

****

 

She cries for what they had ( _have_ , _will have_ ). She cries for what was ( _is, will be_ ) unjustly taken away. She cries for what could have been, what could be.

She empties out everything eating her inside, until the heaviness subsides.

 

****

 

Elyza— _Clarke_ —buries her head into Lexa’s shoulder, drenching Alicia’s jacket with her tears. She basks in Lexa’s warmth, and she thinks this must be what paradise is like—where she’s protected, where she feels tranquility and contentment—and if so, then she’ll gladly stay here forever.

Lexa threads her fingers through blonde strands, and it soothes Clarke to the corners of her soul— _their_ soul, for it is as much Clarke’s as it is Lexa’s; there is only one Lexa, in any world, and always, Clarke belongs to her.

She continues the ministrations until Clarke’s breathing evens out, and doesn’t stop even then.

 

****

 

Eventually, Clarke pulls back—not far, though, or she won’t be able to take it—and Lexa loosens her hold just enough to let their foreheads rest together.

There’s too much to say. There’s too much to ask. There’s too much between them it almost seems impossible to decide where they should start.

She struggles against the lump in her throat. “You . . . you remember,” Clarke says dumbly, like the fact is only now catching up to her.

And Lexa smiles, and she looks so radiant, so out of this (any) world that Clarke idly thinks Lexa is a god. If that were so, Clarke would have surely disintegrated by now—for she’s a mere mortal in the presence of divinity in their true form, and honestly, she can’t think of any better way to go.

“I do,” Lexa assures her, tilting her head in just the right way, the way that has always driven Clarke crazy, because it’s so _Lexa_ —such a stupidly adorable little move that directly contrasts with the image the Commander is supposed to portray. And it is so at home there now, Lexa’s mannerisms in Alicia’s features, Alicia’s mannerisms in Lexa’s features—one and the same, Lexa and Alicia, both having Clarke and Elyza and everything in between in their grasp.

“When?” Clarke asks, because this has come without warning. She has accepted the possibility that she won’t be with _Lexa_ in this life, and there has been no indication that she has any inkling of who she _is_ , and Clarke never pushes because seeing _Lexa_ so carefree makes her heart swell with happiness.

Not that she’s complaining about this development—far from it, of course—but right now she just wants to face facts so that she won’t drown in her feelings.

(Though she has been admittedly drowning in them the moment those green eyes first looked at her. It’s a losing battle, and Clarke doesn’t really mind.)

Lexa brings up her right hand to cup Clarke’s chin, the thumb slowly stroking Clarke’s lower lip. “Earlier, outside. When—” Lexa gulps, suddenly nervous, and Clarke can see disbelief and hope clearly written in green, “—when you said you love me.”

Clarke inhales sharply, and her heartbeat is so loud in her ears she’s pretty sure it can be heard by walkers and they’re going to have to make a run for it. “Oh.”

“Oh?” she chuckles, the sound of it rich, stoking the fire burning in Clarke’s heart. And then she says, “I love you,” as if she’s saying the sun is a star around which the earth revolves. As if it’s an indisputable fact that have been unjustly suppressed for long— _far_ _too long_ —and she cannot last another second holding it in, because it’s meant to be declared for all the world to hear.

Lexa says it as if it’s inexorable—and it _is_.

Clarke’s always been the force of nature that defies Lexa’s gravity and yet, at the same time, keeps her in orbit—Clarke is the wings that let her soar and the string that tethers her to the earth, all at once.

She’s an amalgamation of contradictory parts that Lexa will spend a lifetime—and more, if she has any say in the matter (and she _does_ )—learning, discovering, exploring.

Clarke draws a shuddering breath, and she smiles at Lexa shakily. Lexa cradles Clarke’s face delicately in both her hands now, and the pads of her thumbs wipe away the tears running down Clarke’s cheeks anew, though it is a fruitless effort—it is like a dam has again been broken, and there is no stopping in sight. “I thought love was weakness,” Clarke manages to say amidst her sobs.

Lexa shakes her head, an adamant rejection of an idea she used to uphold. And she tells her, “Never ours, Clarke. Never ours.”

Clarke nods, acknowledging that as their truth, and she lifts her face so that she and Lexa are breathing the same air. And she says the words that have always been there, heavy on the tip of her tongue, words that do not even fully cover the weight of what she feels and will always feel for this woman, this woman she will find in any and in every life, this woman who owns her wholly and completely and irrevocably.

“I love you.”

And it feels so right, feels like it’s an absolute, and Clarke wonders why she ever stopped herself from saying them.

And so she says them again, and again, and again—a broken litany that somehow makes her whole, makes _them_ whole, “I love you, I love you, I love you . . .”

 

****

 

Falling in love with Lexa is less of a choice and more of an inevitability. Clarke craves her with every fibre of her being, and once she has her, even forever will never be long enough.

 

****

 

It is never her intention to fall in love, but somewhere between almost dying and almost dying _again_ , Clarke knew she blew it, and there’s no going back.

 

****

 

“I love you in a way I’ve never loved before. I won’t love anyone else the way I love you, because there’s only one you, and the love I have for you consumes me.” Clarke wants to exhale all her anguish into Lexa’s mouth, and she wants to breathe all of Lexa in, to fill her, in every inch of her being. “It terrifies me.”

“I understand, Clarke. What I . . . what this is  . . . it used to terrify me too,” Lexa presses her lips against Clarke’s in a barely there kiss. “But I love you, and I desire you, and I want you the same way the earth wants the sun to rise so that it could greet another dawn. And when I recognized it for what it is— _a fact_ —then I saw no reason to be terrified anymore.”

 

****

 

For the first time in a long while, they both fall asleep with hope for a brighter tomorrow burning strong in their hearts.

 

****

 

Clarke wakes up first. She looks down, and she’s greeted with brown hair. Lexa is wrapped around her, an arm slung on her waist, a leg thrown over hers.

She delves her fingers into the silky brown locks, her touch light so as to not disturb the brunette. She likes watching her like this, so young, so . . . open, and her left hand twitches by her side, feeling the urge to capture this moment just as she had in _that_ world—to try and capture perfection on paper, to imprint this sleeping deity on something other than her memory.

“You’re staring too much,” comes a sleepy voice, and Clarke smiles at the softly teasing tone. “It’s creepy.”

“‘Morning, sunshine,” Clarke greets, her own voice rough with sleep, and Lexa feels herself melt.

She burrows herself further into Clarke’s neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be the sunshine one, being blonde and all?”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who lights up my world.”

Lexa groans. “It’s too early for that, Clarke,” she says, smacking her on the stomach.

Clarke laughs then, Elyza’s impishness shining through. “It’s never too early for anything. I swear, no matter the hour, I can do everything. Even you, sweetheart.”

Lexa finally lifts her head up to glare at Clarke. “I liked you better when you’re just staring.”

“Aw, no need to be so bratty.” She presses the tip of her finger on the crease between Lexa’s eyebrows. “And smile, why don’t you? I love it when you smile.”

“Is that another pickup line?”

“Maybe. Though, let’s be honest, I don’t even have to pick you up at all since you’re already on top of me. And I’m not saying I don’t like it, because I really, really do—”

Lexa rolls her eyes and doesn’t let her finish, swallowing whatever Clarke meant to say.

At the first brush of their lips, a desire for more is immediately sparked, and Clarke pushes back, harder, more unyielding. Lexa opens her mouth and sucks on Clarke’s lower lip, and Clarke’s arms are around her torso, pulling her in ever closer. Lexa has a hand on Clarke’s jaw, and she uses it to change their angle, and then Lexa’s pushing her tongue past Clarke’s lips and raking it on the roof of the blonde’s mouth.

That earns her a growl, and the next second, Lexa is the one lying on her back, and a firm thigh is slipping right where she wants it, and then shoving against her roughly, and Clarke moans around Lexa’s resulting gasp. A shiver runs through Lexa’s spine, and she arches into Clarke, pressing even more firmly into the body above her, and every coherent thought she possesses flies into oblivion.

 

****

 

Their friends are already starting to prepare for breakfast.

Clarke and Lexa ( _Clarke and Lexa_ —they’re _Clarke and Lexa_ again, and _Clarke and Lexa_ revel in it and it’s been so long and it’s been so difficult but they’re together now and everything feels right) manage to disentangle themselves from each other and get out of their tent to help.

They know they should probably say something about Lexa’s memory resurfacing too. Soon.

 

****

 

Octavia sees them coming out, and she raises an eyebrow when Alicia tucks stray strands of blonde hair behind Elyza’s ear, and Elyza smiles at Alicia softly.

They’re oblivious to the world. Octavia doesn’t comment on it.

 

****

 

Lincoln is cleaning up some small animals by the stream.

“Hey, Linc. What do we have?” Elyza asks, rolling up her sleeves and crouching down next to him.

“Hares,” Lincoln replies. “They came out of nowhere earlier, and Monty and I figured we could just eat some fresh meat instead of taking stuff from our supplies, at least until our next run.”

“Good call,” Elyza nods. She takes out a knife and gets to work.

 

****

 

Bellamy is starting out the fire in the makeshift grill Raven insisted on keeping with them, putting in coals and kindling. He looks up when he hears someone approach, and he sees Alicia standing by.

“Good morning,” he greets her, his voice low and his tone careful.

He’s always been careful when interacting with Alicia because even now, he can feel the guilt singeing him up inside. He doesn’t think it will ever leave him.

“Good morning,” Alicia returns with her stoic nod—the one Octavia told him was actually a trait of the Commander’s. “May I help?”

Bellamy blinks, not quite sure how to react—he’s never been alone with her before, and they’ve never done tasks together. He always made sure of that; her very existence reminds him of everything he’ll do wrong, and the less time they share a space, the better, because then he could pretend he’s as righteous as he wants himself to be.

It’s a coward’s move, and he’s accepted that.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

She sidles up closer, and Bellamy can’t help the trace of sadness in his eyes when looking at her.

“So what should I do?”

“Uhm, you can maybe place these”—he gestures to the small wood chunks beside them—“in the grill, so we can get the fire going. I’m just waiting for Lincoln to finish up with cutting the hares to cook ’em.”

She frowns, but she does as she’s told, putting kindles piece by piece. “Hares? Like, bunny rabbits?”

He hides a grimace. Alicia is into some healthy stuff, and though there aren’t plenty of those in the world now—and really, they can’t afford thinking about the nutrients in their food when they can’t even be sure there’s any food to eat at all—Elyza somehow finds something for her.

“Yeah. It’s just, at least until our supplies are replenished, we could maybe eat on hunted stuff. And it’s, like, fresher this way, so.” He clears her throat awkwardly. “I mean, you don’t have to force yourself to eat it. I know some find it, like, despicable to eat furry little woodland creatures.” He’s fidgeting with the poker now, and his discomfort is almost palpable—well, he thinks so, though Alicia shows no indication that she’s aware of it. “I think Elyza’s got the food you like in a bag somewhere.”

Alicia just hums. “No, it’s okay. I figured I’d have to get on with the times, somehow.” She scrunches her nose. “Kinda hoped it would be far into the future, though.”

“Yeah, well, this”—he waves around—“ _is_ the foreseeable future.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She sounds resigned. Then she gets the matchbox lying by the kindling pile, and she strikes a match and drops it right in the centre of the grill.

Bellamy’s eyebrows rise up in surprise when the fire catches rapidly, and he realizes that she methodically placed the wood in a way that will ensure a quick blaze.

It’s . . . “Impressive.”

“Hmm?”

“I usually wait a couple of minutes to have the fire keep going like that.”

She shrugs. “Maybe I’m just a natural at making fires.”

“Maybe.”

She looks over her shoulder and sighs. “There’s the food.”

Bellamy turns, and he sees Elyza holding a metal tray full of raw sliced meat. She’s sauntering towards them at a leisurely pace, and her smile . . . oh.

It’s been a long time since he saw that kind of smile on Clarke’s face, and it kind of takes him aback.

He pins her gaze back at Alicia, and she’s smiling too, looking at Elyza without the charade of indifference she’s been maintaining since she joined them.

 

Huh.

 

****

 

“That’s hardcore devotion right there, bro,” Jasper says, jutting his chin towards Elyza and Alicia, who are cooking their breakfast.

Monty follows his gaze. “That’s kind of a given.” There’s something different in the way they’re looking at each other, now, and it makes Monty feel like he’s intruding on a private moment, which is stupid, because they’re not even doing anything.

Alicia is leaning over the grill, fanning the flames and turning the pieces of meat this way and that. Elyza is stacking up the cooked ones on a plate, and then . . .

“Whoa,” Monty says.

“Whoa,” Jasper echoes.

 

****

 

Elyza slithers up behind Alicia after setting the food aside, and she wraps her arms around Alicia’s waist—and it feels so natural, as if they’ve been doing this forever—and Alicia presses closer with a pleased hum.

 

****

 

“Can I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Clarke whispers against Lexa’s sensitive skin, planting kisses along the brunette’s neck. “Too hot, hot damn.”

Lexa shakes her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something useful?”

“You mean hugging you isn’t enough?”

“Shut your mouth, Clarke, or I’ll feed you the coals.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“And I hope you’re aware that we’re being watched, and we should probably tell them. Like, right now, before—”

“Oh my god,” Raven’s shocked voice reverberates in the open space.

Lexa winces. “—that happens.”

 

****

 

“Heda,” Lincoln looks down at her with the same mixture of fear and respect he’s always had, and his voice cracks, and Lexa smiles a heartrending smile.

“Not _Heda_ , Lincoln,” she tells him kindly, and she can see how he’s struggling with reconciling the image of his Commander with a teenager stuck in another apocalypse. “Lexa.”

Lincoln nods, as solemn as ever, and Lexa remembers the boy she grew up with, climbing trees to escape Anya’s wrath, taking Nyko’s special medicinal brew so they could try and replicate it, with the worst results, of course, but they never regretted it.

Octavia steps closer then, and Lexa regards her calmly, and the spitfire that _will be_ Indra’s second does the same. Then she extends her arm, saying, “Welcome, Commander.”

Lexa clasps her arm, and she feels a strange sort of pride, for there is no doubt in her mind that this girl really was born to be a Grounder.

Then Raven is in front of her, holding out a hand. Lexa shakes it, and she smirks at the strength of the mechanic—no—the engineer’s grip.

“We’ve never really talked before, have we?” Raven’s eyes are pinned on hers.

“No.”

“You’re kind of a hardass.”

“You’re kind of a brat.”

“Touché.” Then something appears to occur to her, for she’s then grinning wickedly, and she’s turns to look at Clarke who is standing just behind Lexa. “And, damn, you’re like, what, seventeen now, right? And Elyza’s twenty-two.”

Lexa feels Clarke going rigid.

“Dude, you are dating a minor, oh my god.” Raven claps a hand to her mouth, failing to keep the laughter from bubbling up.

“Shut the fuck up, Raven,” Clarke bites out, and Lexa doesn’t need to look at her to see how murderously she’s staring at her own friend.

“Come on, Elyza, a girl’s gotta have some standards, you know?”

Clarke releases a sound dangerously close to a snarl.

Lexa looks at her sideways. “Does it bother you?”

Clarke looks like a deer caught in headlights, and Lexa tries to hide her own amusement, but her lips twitch, and Clarke’s eyes narrow, and she _knows_.

“Ugh, fine, team up or whatever,” Clarke mutters, and then she spins around and gets a plate and stomps to where the food is.

 

****

 

Bellamy approaches cautiously when Clarke breaks away from where their friends are crowding around Alicia . . . the Commander.

He clears his throat, and Lexa turns to his direction.

“Bellamy,” she says, and she does that stoic-nod thing of hers again, and seeing it without the Alicia filter, well, Bellamy understands how it’s such a “Commander” thing to do.

“Hi.” He has a hand on the back of his neck, kneading it in apprehension. “Uhm, can we, uh, talk?”

Lexa remains impassive, but she understands. Her eyes flick to their company, and she says, “Of course.”

The others get their cue, and they give them their space.

He tilts his head toward the stream. “Take a walk with me?”

Lexa considers this, and she looks to where Clarke is—Clarke is already looking at her, watching, and there’s a question in her eyes. Lexa merely smiles, and Clarke relaxes, nodding.

She meets Bellamy’s gaze coolly. “Okay.”

 

****

 

They amble along the water in silence, weighing the silent words floating between every step they take.

 

****

 

After a while, when they’re out of hearing range, relatively, Bellamy finally stops in his tracks. Lexa takes a few more steps, and then does the same, turning about so they’re face to face.

Her hands are clasped behind her, and she has the bearing of one who has successfully commanded armies and controlled affairs of state.

It is not the first time he felt inadequate and weak before this woman, who is stronger than him in every way that matters.

Honestly, what he is going to do now is the first show of true strength he’ll ever do.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. He forces himself to not shrink before the steady green gaze, to not falter before the Commander’s quiet power. “I’m sorry for what I did—what I’ll do. I’m sorry for being too . . . fragile, for letting my anger cloud my judgment. I’m sorry for being a prejudiced bastard who can’t look past my initial perceptions, and for claiming”—his voice is tremulous now, and his hands are tight fists by his side, “—for claiming the lives of your people. Innocent lives . . . meant to protect us . . . but I was so, so stupid, and weak, and I let myself do something so vile, and I—” The memory of what he did—will do—is something he wants to erase forever. “I am so sorry for hurting you that way.”

And then he drops on his knees, and his head is bowed, as if awaiting the executioner’s axe. He’s weeping, like a lost little boy, heart-wrenching cries for something he cannot change.

And Lexa draws him close, and he’s sobbing into her stomach, gripping her shirt. And she pats his head in a calming rhythm.

“I forgive you, Bellamy. I forgive you.”

 

****

 

Their original plan involves going north in search of Alicia’s family.

The updated plan involves a road trip across the country, with the hopes of seeing Alicia’s family.

 

****

 

“Are you sure? They’re your family. I mean, you get to have a mother and a brother and a stepdad and a stepbro. Won’t that be nice?”

Alicia sighs, and she tips Elyza’s face with a finger, letting blue stare into green. “Yes, I’m sure. And yes, that would be nice. But you’re my family too.”

Elyza still looks worried. “Yeah, but bloo—”

“ _Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb_ ,” Alicia interrupts. “That’s the original line, with a completely different meaning from the more famous proverb, so, whatever. And sure, it’d be cool to see Nick again. And we will. But that’s not our priority anymore, all right?”

Elyza is quiet for several moments, and then she says, “I was gonna say _Blood must have blood_ , but yeah, sure, what you said works too.”

Alicia rolls her eyes and kisses Elyza just to shut her up.

Elyza does not complain.

 

****

 

Raven outdoes herself when she finishes repairing Elyza’s Harley.

“There, asshole, we can finally use the space this thing eats up in the truck with something more useful. Like, you know, more supplies.”

Elyza tuts at her, as her hands run down the leather seat, and the movement is almost sensual.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like that more than you like Alicia.”

“Shhh,” Elyza admonishes Raven, not even looking up. “Don’t listen to the woman, baby,” she hums to the bike.

“I think this is a bad time,” Raven says, and Elyza knows she’s not speaking to her. After several seconds, she finally tears her eyes away from her baby and sees Alicia standing with her arms crossed.

“Clearly,” Alicia says, no small amount of sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh come on,” Elyza says, “this here is my little sweetie, okay? We’ve been through a lot. She’s my knight.”

“You named it a _she_?” Raven is putting away her tools from where she’s sitting on a small bench.

Elyza rolls her eyes. “Of course I did. I’m a lesbian. Do you really think I’d ride anything named after a man?”

Raven chortles at that, and her shoulders shake with each breath. “Oh god, yeah, you make a good point.”

Alicia, on the other hand, is staring at the heavens as if looking for divine fortitude.

“What _is_ her name?” Raven asks. “You never said. You just, like, call it baby.”

“Her name is Quinn. After Harley Quinn. Get it?” Elyza grins like a child, clearly self-satisfied.

“Are you sure it’s not because you quee—”

“Raven!” Alicia chides, and she’s blushing furiously. “ _Don’t_.”

And Raven cackles maniacally, falling off her small stool, and even then, she doesn’t stop.

Alicia rakes a hand through her hair, glowers at Elyza who is barely even managing to hold in her own laugh, and walks away, grumbling about immature assholes and stupid little shits.

 

****

 

“Oh my god, Elyza, stop looking at her like that,” Raven says, still laughing.

“Like what?” she says, her eyes tracking Alicia’s retreat.

“Like you haven’t been laid in over a century and you desperately wanna tap that.”

Elyza snorts. “Well, I do desperately wanna tap that— _again_ —not even gonna deny it. And every second I spend without her lips on mine _is_ like a century.”

Raven throws a dirty towel at her. “Okay, okay, can it, Romeo.”

 

****

 

Raven’s modifications on Quinn included tuning her up and installing a device that will silence her roars, thereby making her the quietest motorbike in existence.

Elyza moped at first, because she loved those roars, but Lincoln pointed out that this way, she won’t get unnecessary attention, and they’d all be safer.

She conceded his point.

 

****

 

Travelling is a bit more comfortable now, because there’s more room in the other truck, and there’s no need to share cramped space in the truck beds.

Elyza rides Quinn ahead of them, and, despite her initial misgivings about the blasted thing, Alicia always rides with her.

 

****

 

With their hair whipping in the wind, the exhilaration of being free on the road, and the feel of Elyza’s warmth pressed in front of her, Alicia admits that maybe Quinn is not too bad after all.

 

****

 

They were supposed to just check this house for some canned stuff and random electronic parts, but Monty found a generator in the basement. He and Raven then rigged it so there’s electricity for them tonight, and since it’s far into the edge of town, there’s a smaller chance for them to be discovered by human scavengers and walkers alike.

 

****

 

Alicia is curled up on Elyza’s side, and they’re sharing a bowl of Skittles. They’re on a second-storey bay window, and Raven and Octavia are drying their painted nails on the bed, a bag of gummy bears and several magazines lying beside them.

Bellamy has crashed into the bedroom next door, exhausted from driving nonstop since the night before. Jasper and Monty are concocting something in the kitchen downstairs, and they’ve enlisted Lincoln’s help for it.

(“We need your muscle things, man.”)

(“. . . Got it.”)

 

****

 

“You know,” Alicia shifts so she can look at Elyza, “I never asked before, but the fuck kind of name is Elyza _Lex_?”

“Okay, first of all, say _fuck_ again, it’s hot,” Elyza smirks, waggling her eyebrows. Alicia rolls her eyes, but a smile is involuntarily tugging at her lips. “Second of all, it’s a badass name and you know it.”

“It’s a made-up name.”

“How can you say that? You’re wounding me, love.”

“Commander’s got a point, though, _Elyza_ ,” Raven says.

Elyza turns her head to scowl at Raven. “Traitor,” she says, and she chucks a yellow Skittle at her.

Raven beams, holding her hands up in a placating gesture and deflecting the improvised projectile in the process. “I’m just saying, I’d understand it if you’re Elyza _Luthor_ , but _Lex_ is kind of pushing it in the made-up comic book villain name department.”

Elyza gasps in offense. “Hey, I’m no villain, and _Elyza Lex_ is a perfectly reasonable name with just the right amount of panache and mystery to it, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, no, still not buying that it’s your actual name,” Octavia pipes in, and while still looking down at her painted toenails, she raises a hand to receive Raven’s high five.

“Why are you being unnecessarily rude?” Elyza brings her gaze back at Alicia, looking at her with an exaggerated pout. “They’re being unnecessarily rude.”

Alicia merely gives her that unconvinced look, with a perfect eyebrow raised and a smirk on her perfect lips. “Doesn’t mean they’re not telling the truth, though.”

Elyza sighs, “You’re such a brat.”

“You love it.”

“I love _you_ ,” Elyza says.

“I love you too.” And Alicia gives up on reining in her impulse, and she pecks Elyza chastely on the lips, but when she pulls away, Elyza reaches out and holds her by the nape of her neck and tugs her back in, and Alicia does not resist, instead sinking into it with a content sigh, and all thoughts of _chaste_ are gone from their minds.

“All right, all right, cool it, lovebirds,” Raven groans at their display, throwing a gummy bear at Elyza, and it bounces off the blonde’s shoulder. “We’re straying from the topic here.”

Elyza just chuckles against Alicia’s lips. She lifts her hand not entangled in Alicia’s hair to flip Raven off, and otherwise does not show any sign that she gives a damn.

Alicia, for her part, pulls her in closer, licking Elyza’s bottom lip. Elyza immediately responds by opening her mouth and seeking out Alicia’s tongue with her own, and Alicia lets out a half whimper, half moan.

The sound is clearly not meant for an audience, and Octavia guffaws when Alicia suddenly stiffens in mortified realization.

Alicia starts to move away, but Elyza doesn’t let her; she runs her tongue along the brunette’s plump lower lip, before delving again into welcoming warmth.

Raven says with a mock-glare, “Oh my god, we get it, okay?! You’re so sickeningly sweet and it’s giving me diabetes just thinking about it. And though admittedly hot, I really do _not_ need to see this in action!”

They pay her no mind.

“Fuckers,” Octavia shakes her head, and she opens a magazine to ignore the two.

“Goddamn horny people,” Raven gripes, then she flops back down on the bed, throwing an arm over her face.

 

****

 

“Go get it, Griff!” comes another voice, impertinently playful, and Elyza finally—very reluctantly—moves away from the piece of heaven she has been tasting for the past few minutes. She’s been restraining herself, not letting them get past strictly make-out territory, because she’s still kinda considerate, and she doesn’t want Raven and Octavia to see them actually doing the do. She’s shameless, yeah, but _still_.

She releases a heavy sigh and fixes a hard look at Jasper, who has settled on the floor with Monty, who has a bottle of what she thinks is moonshine in his hands. Lincoln is sitting cross-legged on the bed, Octavia’s feet on his lap.

Elyza says, “I never think it could happen again and again, but I prove myself wrong every time, because whenever I talk to a straight boy like you, Jasper, I become more and more gay.”

“Aw, that’s cruel,” Jasper gives her a puppy-dog look.

Elyza rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine, you’re not that bad.”

Jasper smiles then, and he gets a shot glass from his pocket and hands it to Monty. Monty pours his moonshine, then gives the glass to Elyza.

Elyza starts to reach for it, but Alicia intercepts her, and she downs the liquid in a single swig before handing it back to Monty.

“Wow, that’s really hot,” Elyza says. “I kind of really want to continue where we left off before this little shit interrupted us.”

“Hey,” Jasper protests halfheartedly, sipping his own shot.

Alicia smirks at Elyza. “I won’t do anything about it until you tell us about your name.”

“You’re playing dirty and it’s totally unfair, especially because it’s still a fucking turn on.”

“What about Elyza’s name?” Monty asks.

Alicia answers, “I don’t believe for a second that _Lex_ is her actual surname.”

“Oh yeah, totally not,” Monty agrees.

“Hey!” Elyza frowns. “It’s my name!”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Oh god, stop it, kids,” Raven lifts her head just enough to glare. “And, Elyza, no, no one’s buying that shit of a name, okay? So either admit we’re right and tell us what it really is or just shut up.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Raven bends back down. “Nope, but the Commander is.”

“She’s not wrong,” Alicia says.

Elyza stares at her. “It is my last name. _It is_ ,” she insists when Alicia scoffs.

“Well, I’m not a big fan of your last name, but I bet I can change that,” Alicia smiles.

Elyza catches the drift. “Excuse you, I will _not_ be called Elyza Clark.”

“Would you prefer Clarke Clark?”

Lincoln chuckles at that, and he shrugs helplessly when Elyza throws him a glower. Octavia ignores her altogether, and she is laughing along with Jasper and Monty, and she even hears Raven’s snickers muffled by the pillow she pressed on her face.

Elyza opens her mouth for a retort, but nothing is forthcoming, and she snaps it close again, sulking.

Alicia looks at her smugly. “That’s what I thought.”

Elyza crosses her arms like a petulant child. “Why can’t _you_ be Alicia Griffin? Or Lexa Griffin?” Then her eyes crinkled at the corners when an idea strikes her. Alicia knows what’s coming, and it’s annoying. “Or maybe even—”

“Don’t say it,” Alicia interrupts, and she narrows her eyes in warning, but, of course, Elyza doesn’t listen.

“—Lexa Lex?” Elyza grins at her impishly

That makes Raven shake even harder, and she throws the pillow straight at Elyza. “Come on, fucker, why don’t you just tell us?”

Elyza makes a face, and it’s like she’s in actual pain.

“Come on, Elyza,” Alicia urges, nuzzling her shoulder for good measure.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Call me Pooh instead, ’cause all I want is you, honey,” Elyza winks.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” Elyza affirms, and with her shit-eating grin that is also just the right amount of soft and adoring, Alicia can’t be held accountable for grabbing her by the lapels of her jacket and kissing her again.

“Honestly, you two, you’re gonna burn the goddamn carpet if you go on doing that,” Octavia says. “And you know distraction’s not gonna work for long with the Commander, right?” she adds, solely for Elyza.

Elyza sighs when Alicia gives her another peck before shifting again so that her legs are thrown over Elyza’s thighs. “No, but it was worth a try,” she says, her fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of Alicia’s legs.

She blows a defeated breath, and finally, she says, “It’s Alexander. I’m Elyza Alexander.”

She winces at the silence that descends upon them.

“Alexander,” Alicia repeats, after several excruciating moments when no one says a thing. “Seriously? It’s—”

“Yeah, I know, it’s stupid. Why do you think I changed it?”

“That wasn’t what I was gonna say,” Alicia says.

“It’s . . . actually kind of cool,” Lincoln adds. “In a . . . I don’t know, noble-blood kind of way.”

Elyza huffs, pouting even more. Her fingers are tapping incessantly on her Alicia’s skin, and she’s not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Wait.” Octavia’s eyes are narrowed, studying her. “No way.”

“What?” Elyza asks, meeting Octavia’s gaze.

“Shit. Really?”

“What are you talking about?” Elyza snaps.

“You’re noble-born!”

And Elyza freezes.

“Oh my god, you are?” Raven immediately sits up, looking at her with curious eyes.

They are all looking at her with curious eyes, actually, and it makes her feel prickly, like she doesn’t fit in her own skin.

“Can we just drop it?” she implores them, but they’re just staring at her expectantly. “Fucking shit.”

“Why is this such a touchy subject?” Jasper asks.

“Families often are,” Elyza replies. “Just, the Alexanders are, well, you know,” she waves a hand vaguely.

Lincoln tilts his head. “Hey, by the Alexanders . . . do you, perchance, mean . . . ?”

Elyza’s blue eyes are scorching. She sees the realization in Lincoln’s stare; as Rick, he used to work in a museum, and she’s pretty sure he’s read something about this family. “Yes.”

“We’re missing something here, aren’t we?” Raven asks.

“They’re an old House, and part of history or some shit, so museum people are familiar with them,” Elyza looks like she’s ingested something sour. “They’re originally from Britain, but they migrated to Australia sometime during eighteenth century. A family of science nuts,” she says bitterly, “and philanthropists, or whatever you call ’em.”

“Well, they don’t sound too bad.”

“Maybe,” Elyza scoffs.

“So why do you hate them?”

“They support human experimentation, funding the operations and even working on them hands on,” she grits out. And there’s pure, unadulterated rage in her eyes. Her voice is a low rasp, and this time, it’s not teasing, but instead containing every drop of her fury. “And they’re part of the team responsible for the walker virus . . .”

She looks at each and every one of their shocked faces, and she adds, “. . . the same as me.”

“ _What_?” Monty squeaks, the moonshine bottle forgotten beside him.

Elyza fiddles with her fingers. Alicia puts her hands on hers, and Elyza meets soft green eyes, and she finds her courage.

“When I started at Berkeley, the walker virus hasn’t reached its current form yet. But it was getting exponentially stronger. My, uh, aunts and uncles . . . they worked in the lab with it, and since I was like, uhm,” she cringes, “the only Alexander heiress, they found it fitting that I get involved in a project my parents supported years ago.

“I wasn’t aware of it beforehand, you know, and I thought it was just a random thing. But after a while, I realized that it’s not . . . it’s not the normal virus, and it’s extremely dangerous.” Her face is scrunched up in a frown, remembering. “I was supposed to report them, and I was gonna get out, but I overheard them talking with a federal agent, and well, figures, right?”

She chuckles humourlessly, and continues, “It’s supposed to be a bio-weapon, and it’s turning out nicely at that stage. I knew I can’t tell anyone about it then, because it’s surely gonna be covered up, and I’ll most likely end up in prison. Or dead.” Alicia’s grip on her tightens. “So I decided to stay and watch ’em and try to do what I can to stop their asses from the shadows.”

She sighs again. “Last year, there’s a breakthrough. We were on the final phases, but, uh, there’s been an accident. And then I. . .” —she exhales roughly, “—I got bitten.”

“I’m sorry?” Raven yelps. “You got _what_ now?”

Elyza curls her lips. “One of the experiments got to me, and I was bitten.” She takes off her jacket, revealing the wife beater underneath, and Alicia moves so that Elyza can turn and show them her shoulder.

“Motherfuck—” Jasper breathes when they see the scar—faint but _there_.

“Anyway,” Elyza leans back, “obviously I am not a corpse right now. I hid and locked myself in a bunker I made as an emergency plan, and when the first symptom appeared, I was prepared to shoot myself.”

Alicia gasps beside her, and slim fingers are ever tight on Elyza’s arm. She shoots the brunette a tired smile. “I wasn’t affected, and I’m alive now, and I’m here,” she says, and it’s as much an assurance for Alicia as it is for herself.

“Good,” Alicia says, a show of false bravado, “and you’re staying right where you are.”

 

****

 

Later, when the two of them are alone in the room, Lexa clings to Clarke as if she has no intention of letting go.

 

(And it’s true.)

 

****

 

“I’m so sorry,” Lexa says against Clarke’s pulse point.

“For what?”

“I forced you to dig up your past. And I-I am so sorry for what you had to go through.”

“It’s all right.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not all right.”

“Okay,” Clarke allows, “it’s not. But just . . .” She twirls a lock of brown hair on her finger. “Just stay, okay? Stay close.”

“Idiot,” Lexa murmurs, “you didn’t have to ask.”

 

****

 

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Bell. What’s up?” She sounds grumpy, curled in the corner of the sofa with a tea cup, and suddenly he doesn’t think talking would be a good idea.

But he’s here now, so. Whatever.

“I just . . . you know what, never mind.”

Elyza looks at him as if he’s lost his marbles. “Did you eat a bad egg or something?”

“No. I, uh, I just want to say that you deserve this, Cl—Elyza.”

“Deserve what?”

He rolls his eyes. She’s being deliberately obtuse. “Happiness. And stuff.” He shrugs.  “And so does the Commander.”

“She does,” Elyza nods, agreeing.

He rolls his eyes again, because she’s ignoring her own. _Whatever_. “Seeing you love her—it’s an amazing thing.”

And Elyza laughs. “Are you kidding?” she says, and she is fully exposing all the love she has for Lexa. “It would have been an atrocious crime to not fall in love with her.”

 

****

 

“So do you know why the candle quit his job?” Clarke asks as she’s ransacking a garage for extra flashlights and batteries.

Lexa stands by the door with her two swords, on guard. “Why?” She sounds exasperated.

“He felt burned out.”

There’s a long-suffering sigh. “Clarke, if I weren’t so smitten with you, I will truly consider setting you on fire.”

Arms snake around her waist, and Clarke purrs in her ear, “But you already do that whenever you touch me, baby.”

 

****

 

“Fucking shit, why the fuck is life so hard?” Elyza wheezes as she and Raven scramble up a tiny hill.

“Because life’s a dick!” Raven answers, her focus on the improvised hand grenade she’s assembling.

Elyza grunts and she looks particularly aggravated. She turns, hefting the machete over her shoulder for momentum. “I’m not even into dicks!” She cleaves a walker right on the forehead. “Fuck this shit,” she grimaces when blood spatters across her shirt. “Damn, I need new shirts again.”

Then she goes back to running, and they finally reach the top. Elyza bends down, resting her hands on her knees, catching her breath. “I’m pretty sure life personified is a straight middle-aged heterosexual white man who takes pleasure in giving false hope just to brutally tear it all apart and revel in the wreckage caused like a fucking sociopath.”

Raven raises her eyebrows. “Giving false hope?” she echoes. “What, like a showrunner who hypes up his audience by reassuring them the fan fave won’t get killed and then killing that same fan fave in the crappiest possible way?”

“Exactly.” Elyza paused. “Huh, and you sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“You don’t know the half of it, and if that’s the personification you’re sticking to, then, just as I said, life _is_ a dick.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so. It’s more like, a dildo, maybe. I mean, I’d call it a dick too but I don’t think it’s being real enough, ya know?”

“Are the guts covering you right now not real enough for you?”

“These are Halloween decorations at best,” Elyza retorts.

“Whatever you say,” Raven says, and she hurls the grenade out, taking down the couple dozen of walkers trailing them. Raven brushes her palms together, eyeing her handiwork. “Let’s head back now, _Wanheda_.”

 

****

 

“Hey, what’s that in your eyes?” Clarke says, just as she shoots another walker’s head.

“Huh?” Lexa’s skewering two walker heads, but she glances at the blonde questioningly.

Clarke winks. “Oh, never mind. It’s just a sparkle.”

Lexa takes out her blades from the brains with a wet squelch. “Seriously, Clarke? Can’t you just focus on the damn walkers right now?” She takes another down, and with a twirl, she has sliced clean another couple of foreheads.

Watching Lexa fight is like seeing the myths come alive. She’s a sight to behold; she’s glorious in her wildness, and she’s magnificent in her ferociousness. She’s a hurricane of destruction, wielding her swords with deadly precision and remarkable grace.

“I can’t even blame the walkers for running around trying to eat you, ’cause I wanna do the same thing,” Clarke says, and her tone is almost dreamy.

“If you don’t stop right now, I’m gonna eat you,” Lexa says.

“Is that a threat?”

Lexa’s eyes are hot on hers, pupils blown wide, drowning out the greens. “It’s a promise.”

 

****

 

“Damn. You know what I really miss?” Clarke says casually, lounging on a suburban house’s swing set.

“What?” Lexa’s head is on Clarke’s shoulder, and she’s playing with their fingers.

“TV shows. Netflix. Hulu. I just wanna watch some series again. Like, I miss the days when the hardest decision I needed to make was which show to watch next.”

“I get the feeling that you choose your shows by the amount of gay in it.”

Clarke snorts. “Yeah, but, ya know, not too gay, or the characters will probably all die, and I’ll die right along with them.”

“Smart.”

 

****

 

“Hey.”

“I swear to god, if this is another pickup line, I’m going to be extremely violent with you,” Lexa says, passing her blade over a whetstone.

“That, love, has me oddly turned on.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yes, but I love you. And I’d pick spending the apocalypse— _any apocalypse_ —with you over living a normal life with anyone else.”

Lexa stops, and she gingerly puts her task aside. She stalks to where Clarke is leaning by the doorway, tugs her inside, and shuts the door by pressing the blonde against it.

“ _Osir keryon ste teina, Klark_.”

Clarke nods, solemn and sincere. “ _Feva en otaim._ ”

And then strong hands grip her at the back of her knees, and Lexa hoists her up as if she weighs nothing, and then they’re talking in moans and gasps.

 

****

 

“Motherfucking lovebirds,” Raven says under her breath. Octavia hears her, and she turns to the direction Raven is looking at, spotting the two making out under a tree.

Octavia smirks, and then she yells, “Hey, kiddos! Stop defiling the poor goddamn tree and help in packing our stuff!”

She hears Elyza’s muffled reply, “Go fuck yourself with your sword, O!”

Octavia just laughs and shakes her head, amused. She nudges Raven, who is burying her face in her hands in mock-exasperation. “Come on, Raven. The more you stop them, the more they’ll be unbearably disgusting.”

 

****

 

Lexa catches Clarke drawing her. Again. And just like then, she doesn’t quite know what to say.

But here, now, Clarke has Elyza’s wit, and she teases, “I like drawing the beauty of the earth, so.”

 

****

 

Lexa’s reading on a student’s desk, and Clarke is lying on the bed, going through a bunch of graphic novels. It’s peaceful, one of those communities that haven’t been raided yet, until their group came.

Clarke has just finished another volume when she suddenly says, “I read a study once, saying that the heart grows weaker every time we do something opposite of what we feel.”

Lexa looks up from her thick book. “That’s interesting,” she remarks, genuinely.

“Yeah,” Clarke shrugs. “So you see, my heart is weak now, and I really need it to be stronger, so I gotta do you.”

Comprehension dawns on Lexa’s eyes, and she levels Clarke with a daunting glare. “Fuck you, Clarke.”

Clarke bites her lip, and if she weren’t so freaking adorable, Lexa would have really hit her. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

 

****

 

They are huddled around a campfire on another house’s rooftop, roasting mallows and enjoying the newest batch of Monty’s moonshine. It’s really quite ingenious how he can still manage to distill spirits while they’re on the run, and supplies are getting pretty rare, but he always pulls through, and they are tremendously thankful for it.

Monty is partnering up with Jasper for Monopoly, and they’re playing against Raven and Octavia, though the girls are working solo. Bellamy and Lincoln are discussing some random archaeological finds—Robb was apparently a historian, and Bellamy found that as a former museum curator, Lincoln can more than follow his discourse.

Alicia is sitting on a low bench with her legs hugged close to her chest, and Elyza is, of course, beside her, playing random notes on her ukulele. She’s looking at the blonde through lidded eyes, her cheeks a bit flushed from the alcohol, from the fire, and from Elyza herself, and Elyza winks when she catches her gaze.

She gets no warning whatsoever before Elyza shifts to completely face her and begins plucking and strumming in earnest. Her fingers are quick and nimble (oh, are they, ever) as they dance along the frets, and she sings in her rich, smoky voice, and Alicia’s mind goes temporarily blank.

_“I love you too much to live without you loving me back_

_I love you too much, heaven’s my witness and this is a fact_

_I know I belong when I sing this song_

_There’s love above love and it’s ours ’cause I love you too much.”_

Everyone’s attention is focused on them now, and they are watching with delighted interest, but Elyza’s eyes are trained solely on Alicia, and Alicia can’t look away—not that she wants to, at any rate, not with the way blue eyes pierce right through her, and especially not with the way Elyza’s serenading her and openly pouring her _heart_ into the song, and it makes Alicia’s own heart want to leap out of her chest and right into Elyza’s palms, no questions asked—she wants Elyza to take it, anyway, because it’s already _hers_.

It has always been hers.

_“I live for your touch, I whisper your name night after night_

_I love you too much, there’s only one feeling and I know it’s right_

_I know I belong when I sing this song_

_There’s love above love and it’s ours ’cause I love you too much.”_

And Elyza stands up just to move and kneel before Alicia, looking at her with pure adoration shining in blue eyes that have become Alicia’s entire sky, and Alicia doesn’t know how it is possible for her love to grow any stronger, but it does, and she feels like she is overflowing with everything she’s feeling in that very moment.

_“Heaven knows your name, I’ve been praying to have you come here by my side_

_Without you a part of me’s missing_

_Just to make you my home I will fight_

_I know I belong when I sing this song_

_There’s love above love and it’s ours ’cause I love you too much, I love you too much!”_

Every note reverberates with things they were forced to keep hidden, things they weren’t allowed to even think about admitting. But they’re surging freely to the surface now, with nothing to staunch their flow.

_“I love you too much, heaven’s my witness and this is a fact_

_You live in my soul, your heart is my goal_

_There’s love above love and it’s mine ’cause I love you_

_There’s love above love and it’s yours ’cause I love you_

_There’s love above love and it’s ours if you love me as much.”_

 

Elyza cheekily grins up at her as she plays the last notes, and when they fade away, she says, “It would probably have sounded a bit better if I had a guitar, but ukulele version’s not bad, so—”

Alicia throws her arms around Elyza’s neck, and Elyza just has time to hand her instrument to Monty, who is smiling gently. Then she returns the embrace.

“I love you so much,” Alicia murmurs against blonde hair, and she feels Elyza shiver beneath her.

“And I love you, angel,” Elyza says, her arms tightening around Alicia’s waist. “ _Ste kamp raun ai_.”

“I can’t even imagine being anywhere else,” Alicia tells her. “ _Ai nou na teik yu gon we nowe._ ”

 

****

 

“Claiming the master’s bedroom, guys,” Elyza announces.

“Yeah, we know, you always call dibs on the fucking room,” Raven rolls her eyes.

“True, but just, no interruptions this time.” She pauses for emphasis. “I _mean_ it.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Maybe not, but I’m still gonna tell you. I’m gonna make sweet love to my girlfriend and anyone who dares try to disturb us is going to meet a tragic end.”

 

****

 

“You were right, Clarke.”

Clarke tenses, because she remembers _that_ day, and _those_ exact words, and she remembers barging into Lexa’s room, and she remembers _that_ goodbye. She remembers, and the pain in her chest is so acute, and she fears her lungs are going to fail in bringing oxygen into her body. Blood rushes to her ears, and she fears she’s going to fade away.

But Lexa’s hand gripping hers grounds her, and Clarke reminds herself that _now_ is what matters—now, because Lexa is alive, and Lexa is here, and Lexa is hers.

And she pushes through the taste of bile in her mouth, and she forces a grin. “Mmm, say that again,” Clarke teases, lightly brushing her nose against Lexa’s cheek.

Lexa huffs an annoyed breath, but her lips are quirking into her soft half smile. “Shut up.”

Clarke beams at her then, and to Lexa, she looks like salvation. “You know I really like it when you admit I’m right, but what exactly am I right about this time?”

Lexa shrugs. “We owe nothing more to our people now,” she says, and her eyes—always so expressive even when she’s trying to mask her emotions—are glistening, and she is so beautiful it makes Clarke ache.

“This is our _someday_ ,” Lexa continues, and her voice is full of wonder and of hope—of everything stripped away and now returned (now given and then will be stripped away). “We finally have our happy ending.”

And at her words Clarke chuckles softly, and Lexa leans back, looking at her, confused and mildly upset. “Did I say something funny?”

Clarke merely shakes her head and turns to her, then, fully facing her. She lifts up a hand to cup Lexa’s cheek, and her touch is so soft, so loving that it makes Lexa’s heart throb fast. Her eyes are shimmering in the moonlight, the blue so intense that Lexa can almost taste freedom in them—for that is what Clarke was, what Clarke is, and what Clarke will always be to Lexa: her freedom, her love, her soul.

“We _are_ happy, but you know what?” Clarke leans ever closer, resting her forehead on Lexa’s, her breath warm against Lexa’s lips. “We don’t have an ending.”

And Lexa smiles at her, and Clarke tastes forever.

 

They will never have an ending.

 

****

 

And on and on, their souls will sing.

 

On and on.

 _Ai hod yu in_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. As promised (again, not quite, but still), here’s the third part. We need the fluff, we need the happiness, we need the bliss. And I know this doesn’t even come close to what we deserve, but I hope that in some way, it helps. It’s the best I can do, and it’s not enough, no, but I hope it at least made you smile.
> 
> Also, if you noticed, Clarke’s and Lexa’s POVs are sometimes kind of combined instead of separated into portions. That was intentional, a way for me to deal with my feelings regarding the fact that though they are two separate entities, they are bonded, and always will be. (You know, just putting it out there, in case some of you are bothered by the flow.)
> 
> And the thing about the heart getting weaker every time we do something we don’t want is legit. It’s in Time Magazine.
> 
> Song title is “[I Love You Too Much](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViwJ2b6cHKo),” sung by Diego Luna, featured in the animated film The Book of Life (which honestly is a pretty fantastic film so if you haven’t watched it yet, please do.)
> 
> And including those in the song lyrics, the Three Words appeared here twenty-four times. Yeah, I counted. Colour me extra.
> 
> And the headcanon used:  
> \- Alexander as actual surname (mistyfiedple… I’M SO SORRY THE NAME WAS CUT OFF IT WAS FROM A SCREENSHOT)
> 
> Trigedasleng:  
> \- Osir keryon ste teina, Klark. (Our souls are entwined, Clarke.)  
> \- Feva en otaim. (Forever and always.)  
> \- Ste kamp raun ai. (Stay with me.)  
> \- Ai nou na teik yu gon we nowe. (I’m never going to let you go.)
> 
> And the inspiration for the last part:  
> me: (ranting about clexa as usual) they need their happy ending.  
> cousin: no, no, they are happy, but they don’t have an ending.  
> me: shit fam imma use that in my fic thanks
> 
> Ste yuj.

**Author's Note:**

> Tense inconsistencies (?) are intentional. Sorry if it bothered anyone.
> 
> I like hearing from you guys. It seriously fuels these writing bouts.
> 
> Yell at me or something at [A Blank Canvas](http://agentjoannemills.tumblr.com/ask) or [@joampolin](https://twitter.com/joampolin). Let us all cry together.  
> Ste yuj.


End file.
